Time
by The EarthSong
Summary: Kirra has always been a little different. She chalked it up to being adopted. What happens when her past come to haunt her literally? Will she be able to accept it? This is a Gawain story.
1. Chapter 1

**#1 The Storm**

The morning was cool and damp and the sky brightened with the promised of a warm day. It was early enough that dawn was still dressed in her gown of dove gray and pink and dew sparkled like diamonds scattered among the grasses in the pale light. Kirra led her black mare, Fate, from the barn and took a deep breath of the fresh air before whistling for her dog. The huge, shaggy wolfhound mix came after a minute's pause. He barreled toward the girl and stopped just before bowling her over. The mare snorted in annoyance, but Kirra just laughed.

"Oh Finn, you are an animal." She said adoringly and scratched him behind the ears as he leaned against her. "You ready to go out?"

The dog pricked his floppy ears at her tone and wiggled like a puppy in his excitement. Even the stoic Fate stomped and chewed her bit in anticipation. It had been a long, cold winter and the animals were ready for the warmth and freedom of summer.

"Well," said Kirra pulling herself into the saddle, "let's go then."

Finn paused, completely still for a second, then galloped off in the direction of the gate and the path that led to the gently rolling hills of acreage that made up Kirra's father's property.

As she nudged Fate to follow Finn, Kirra studied her surroundings. She knew every rock and tree and stream throughout the entire property. It was all beautiful and comforting as only home could be, but this day she didn't notice the beauty or take comfort in it. Her lips were set in a thin line and her silvery gray eyes were as dark and far away as her thoughts. There were so many things to think about and at seventeen and just graduated, the land was the last thing that Kirra wanted to think about.

It was a huge tract and all of it had been in her family for generations, since the first of their family had settled it at the founding of the country. Great-great-grandparents had fought to keep it and so it was passed from father to son and from mother to daughter, with only the promise that it would never be sold or divided. And so it hadn't been.

During various decades, when the upkeep had cost almost more then the family could afford, it had been a temptation to sell a bit here or a bit there to the different development companies or the oil or natural gas companies that made more then generous offers, but all held on and fifty years ago Kirra's grandmother, and avid bird watcher, had noticed a small owl hanging out in the trees and had gotten in touch with a nearby park ranger in order to inquire as to what type of bird it was. Turns out, it was an almost extinct species of owl found only in that region. As result, the government now paid the family handsomely to care for the land and make reports on the bird's progress.

Kirra's father and his older brother were the sons that stayed behind to fulfill the promise after their other siblings left to live in the city. Both were men of some prominence in the nearby town and were known to be men of integrity and honesty, most everyone trusted them implicitly. Kirra's father was a doctor and her uncle a dentist. They each held seats on the town council and had been urged, more the once, to run for some political office or another, but they declined claiming that their families and their land needed all the spare time they had.

The two families lived on the land as neighbors. Kirra's uncle and his family lived on the northern border of the land while Kirra and her parents lived on the far southern border. As it was a huge amount of land, one could ride nearly all day and not even catch a glimpse of other family members. But Kirra had spent a happy childhood tagging along after her cousins and sharing in their adventures.

Kirra was the youngest of the cousins and the only one still living at home. All the others had opted to leave and go to college and train for anything that would take them far from home. Not one had a love for the land that had so long been theirs and certainly no one desired to be tied down with the constant care of it. Because of it, there was worry between the brothers that none of them would ever return and that they would be forced to turn the land over to the government. Kirra was their last hope and she never forgot it.

She was an only child, adopted only after many years of trying to conceive. When at last Kirra's parents had given up the dream of ever having their own child they contacted many different orphanages and children's homes throughout the world in hopes of finding a child. Photos and stories had been sent to the couple and Kirra had stood out from the beginning because she had resembled Scott. It was an easy decision to make to choose her.

The adoption had been easy, much easier then Scott and Lil had first thought it would be. The only difficulty had been getting to Kirra. The orphanage was in Romania, but everyone there was pretty sure that Kirra was not Romanian. In fact, no one was exactly sure where she came from at all. Surprisingly, that fact had been a major contributor to her parents wanting her and no other.

So, they had boarded the plane for the long journey to get her and brought her home to be raised on the beautiful family land as one who was their family and now she was the only one left to care for it when her father and uncle were too old to do so.

Kirra sighed as she thought of that. That was years away. Both James and Scott were young still and strong. They would be caring for the land for many years to come. But it was time now for Kirra to make a decision. In the fall, she would begin college. Did she want to stay here and attend the community college and study the land husbandry classes she needed to in order to be able to take over for her father, or did she want to follow her cousins and leave to study in some school far away?

It was her decision to make. Her parents had been adamant about that and had stopped her uncle James from pressuring her to stay on. After all, if he couldn't force his own children, then why should he be allowed to force theirs? Still, Kirra felt the pressure.

She loved the land, every tree and hill. She felt gratitude and the need to somehow repay her parents for adopting her, something they stressed was not necessary because she was theirs as much as if she had the same blood. But could she make that decision now, being so young and inexperienced with the world? There were things that she wanted to see and do in her life and she knew from watching her parents that the land was as much a burden as it was a blessing. Scott and Lil were on vacation for the first time since they had left to get her, some twelve years earlier.

There had been no time for them to go before and it was too much to leave on the shoulders of one man alone, so they had put off their personal life. Sometimes, like today, Kirra thought the sacrifice was too great, but her parents never complained. It was a good thing that they had other occupations to keep them busy at the same time, though.

Absently, Kirra noted where they were and pulled Fate to a stop beside a little stream at the foot of a heavily wooded hill. It was clear here and few trees grew creating a little green valley. At this time of year, the wildflowers were blooming and added splashes of bright color that broke up the greening monotony.

As Kirra removed the mare's saddle to let the mare wander and graze freely, she made up her mind to enjoy the day. She didn't want anything to interrupt her first day of freedom. She would decide later. Heck, with her parents gone, she had an entire month to decide. Feeling better at the thought, she willed the tension in her shoulders to leave and retrieved Finn's tennis ball.

They played a combined game of fetch and tag. Finn would race after the ball when Kirra threw it then gallop back to her, but pass her by, causing her to chase him. He didn't try very hard to get away and dropped the ball when she slapped his rump. He would lazily chase her back, nipping at her heels until he got close enough to trip her. When that happened she would throw the ball again and they would start over. It was a game they both enjoyed and would play for hours until Kirra got tired. It seemed that nothing could tire the big dog out, but when Kirra lay in the grass to rest, Finn stretched out beside her, a big silly grin on his face and tongue lolling.

As they rested, Kirra fashioned a crown of wildflowers and placed on Finn's head. "There, now you are beautiful, Mucky Finn."

The big dog looked pleased, but became even more so when Kirra got to her feet and mentioned lunch. He jumped to his feet, uncaring that her handiwork fell to the meadow floor, and wagged his brush of a tail excitedly. Kirra whistled for Fate, who came immediately, and opened her saddle bags. There were apples and carrots for her and Fate to share and turkey on wheat for her and Finn to share. They finished everything in record time and Fate meandered off to continue her feasting while Finn watched Kirra forlornly as she finished her meal off with a couple of chocolate cookies.

"These are not for you, boy. Why don't you go scare up a couple of rabbits? I," she lay back in the long, warm grass and stretched, "plan on taking a nap."

Finn muttered a bit and sniffed about the saddle bag, finally gaving up when he realized that lunch was truly over and there was nothing left for him. He wandered to Kirra and dropped his ball on her face, hoping for another game of fetch-tag, but Kirra ignored him and lay quietly with her eyes closed until he left and disappeared into the trees. She chuckled and tucked her arms under her head to watch the clouds sail across the sky, for the moment at ease, until her eyes grew heavy and drifted shut.

Hours later, Kirra jolted awake to find she was still lying on the green grass. Her heart pounded in her chest as she swallowed hot tears. It was a dream that had wakened her. A dream that she often had, but never remembered in any more detail then the flash of flame, the glimmer of sunlight on water, and the shadow of dark curls…or was it wisps of smoke from a fire? She didn't know. It didn't seem a very threatening dream, but she always woke in the same manner; her heart pounding in fear and the sting of tears starting in her eyes.

When her heart had settled down and her breathing had returned to normal, Kirra noticed that the sun was beginning to set and whistled for her animals. The black mare came at once, knowing that they were headed home and ready to return to her warm stall and the company of Jin, Kirra's little black and white paint mare, but Finn didn't come. Kirra huffed in frustration, _she _had_ told him to go and catch a rabbit. _Calling once again, she saddled Fate, collected all her belongings, and waited impatiently, but still the fool dog didn't respond.

Just as she was calling a third time, the threat of a leash heavy in her voice, the sky went abruptly dark. She looked up at rolling clouds as the wind started battering her. It was bizarre; out of a perfectly clear afternoon, huge, black ominous clouds blew in and almost immediately it started raining. Not just raining, but deluging. Within seconds both girl and horse were drenched to the skin. The wind howled and began to whip the pouring rain into a froth. The combination of rain and dark made seeing difficult and Fate's side-stepping and head tossing only made matters worse.

Kirra tucked her chin against the onslaught and ducked her head. The storm was crazy and she had never experienced anything like it. It was too violent, too soon and she had to force herself to be calm, _for Fate's sake_, she kept telling herself. The mare was panicky enough without having to worry about her mistress falling apart and further compounding the problem by freaking out herself.

_This is great! _The shivering and soaked girl thought as she heaved herself onto the horse's back, _so, this is where the perfect day's gone—a bad dream and a crazy storm and my fool dog lost and poor Fate is freaking out. This is _so_ not fair._ She tried one last time to call Finn, though she knew there was no way he would hear her over the din of the storm.

"Fi…, ugh."

Kirra fought for balance as Fate surprised her and suddenly reared. Her hands tightened automatically on the reins and she brought the mare's head down just in time to avoid slipping overboard. Patting the nervous horse, she made some soothing sounds she hoped the mare could hear over the cacophony of the raging storm. The Friesian danced and tossed her head frantically, pulling at her bit. The crashing thunder and blazing lightening was making the usually calm horse more then a little anxious and she wanted nothing more then to be in the stable, safe in her stall.

Kirra had just made up her mind to leave Finn to find his own way home when a bolt of lightening flared up from the ground and split the tree nearest her and Fate. The horse squealed, eyes rolling, and Kirra felt her gathering herself to rear again or make a break for home. She tightened her iron grip on the reins and prayed she had enough strength to keep the mare under control. Kirra had never seen Fate like this. This storm was making her crazy.

The scent of ozone was heavy in the air and the rain was coming down in sheets, vertical sheets. The tree that had been struck was sizzling, too, giving out just enough light from the fast dying embers that she could just make the tree line. Something was moving towards them, but it was hard to tell what it was with her wet hair dripping in her eyes. It didn't look dog, though, and Kirra sat up a little taller and leaned out concentrating hard enough to forget about Fate's little plan to get the heck out of there. The dancing mare, feeling Kirra's distraction, threw herself back one final time and just as Fate tipped her and she hit the ground, the something collapsed at her feet. _Strange,_ she thought oddly calm as she hit the ground with a teeth jarring splash, _it was someone, not something. _


	2. Chapter 2

**#2 The Stranger**

During the fall, Kirra had managed to keep a grip on the reins, but was dragged, sliding over the wet and muddy grass, half-way across the meadow before she was able to find her feet and dig in. She grimaced and thought dryly that she should have been Sainted for her three little miracles, because Fate, who could easily have just pulled her along into the next town, stopped obediently when she found her feet and pulled on the reins.

True, her arms now felt like they had just been pulled from their sockets, but the horse had stopped. She stood still and calm as if there was no killer storm pounding her. In fact, if anything, Fate looked a bit bored with the whole undertaking. She even had the nerve to look back at Kirra as if to say, _well, what are you doing there, standing in the rain?_

Kirra glared at the mare through sodden hair and slapped at her jeans in a vain attempt to brush the mud off. The pouring rain would clean them off soon enough, but most likely they were stained beyond repair, "Come on girl; let's go see what fell out of the sky."

The rain was still coming down in torrents, as Kirra and Fate waded through the mud but the wind and thunder and lightening had all but stopped. Kirra groped her way through the blinding rain and came to the person on the ground. She pushed her hair behind her ear and crouched down for a closer look.

The person on the ground was lying face down and was so big she knew it had to be a man. He lay motionless as Kirra nudged him.

"Hey, can you hear me?"

There was kind of a mumble, she didn't quite catch it. She blinked water out of her eyes and leaned in closer. She thought she heard…no, it couldn't have been. She must've been hearing things and the man hadn't moved and certainly wasn't saying anything now.

Afraid he might drown in the deepening water, Kirra reached out for his shoulder to turn him on his back, her heart nearly stopping when her hand bumped something that should definitely not be in a human shoulder. She lightly ran her fingers up the long, slender object and peered closer, pulling her hand back as if it has been burned when she realized what it was.

She sat back on her heels in astonishment. _No way, there is no way._

Pushing again at her wet hair and praying that it may have been a mixture of water and hair in her eyes that made her _think_ that she had seen an arrow, she leaned closer. Nope, it was unmistakably an arrow.

_Damn. _

As Kirra inspected of the rest of the man's body, she found one more and that was the side he wasn't laying on.

Then it hit her -- _arrows_!!

She jumped to her feet and spun around in a panic, heart pounding and breathing hard. The heavy rain made it impossible to see much of anything, just grey, low lying shadows here and there.

_What if the psycho who did this was still out there? _

Often Kirra's father had to chase zealots away. There were those who protested the keeping of so much rich land in one family, there were the tree huggers who thought they would be better off in charge of the flora and fauna of the area, and then there were the hunters. Occasionally, men snuck in to hunt.

_What if it was a hunter?_

Kirra forced herself to remain calm. Hunters were allowed to come onto the property, with her father's permission, if they signed a written statement that said they would not harm any wildlife but the deer they were culling. In this rain it was conceivable that a hunter might take her or Fate or Finn for really big deer. Why anyone would be hunting in such a storm, she didn't know, but what if this was the reason Finn hadn't come back? Feeling guilty about leaving Finn, Kirra knew she had to get out of there and fast.

At the thought, Kirra felt something heavy lean against her causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. It was Finn asking for forgiveness. She bent and rubbed her hands roughly along his sides and down his legs feeling for any wounds. There was nothing.

The dog, thinking Kirra had forgiven him for not coming to her, began to wriggle in delight, but she didn't have time for his ploys and shoved him aside as she straightened. He looked at her with a sad long face and whined.

"Go to Niara's house, Finn. Let her know we're coming."

When the dog didn't budge, Kirra shoved him and pointed, "Go to Niara's. Niara's." Finn smiled at her and took off, a silver streak blending in at once with the silver sheets of rain that still pounded at them.

Kneeling in the mud again, Kirra took a deep breath and steeled herself then rolled the man onto his back. She was surprised that the torrent falling into his face didn't revive him. He remained still as Kirra pushed a few soaked strands of hair out of his face and his white face all but glowed in the gloom. She was frantic to get him on Fate, but he was a large man whereas she was a small girl and Fate a tall horse. There was no way that she could lift him onto Fate without his help. Kirra knelt over him and patted his cheek.

"Come on," she pleaded, "wake up. You have to if you want to get out of here."

No response, Kirra glanced around her, heart racing in fear and unable to see through the rain and then slapped him lightly.

"Come on." She hissed a little louder.

Not even an eye flutter. Then Kirra, fed up with it all and frightened nearly to tears, belted the man hard across the face. Her palm stung, but it did the trick. He opened his eyes slowly and groaned, mumbling something incoherent as Kirra took his other arm, careful to make sure there was no arrow in it as well. There wasn't.

She pulled at him, "Come on, get up. You have to get onto my horse. I can't lift you."

The man looked at her dully and for a moment she thought he was going to pass out again, but he didn't. She pulled on his arm again, her fear becoming anger. _For heaven's sake, I am out in the middle of a thunderstorm, drenched to the bone, and trying to get some freaking guy, with freaking arrows sticking out of his freaking body, onto my freaking horse, so that he won't freaking die and the freaking people who did it to him won't come and kill me too, and he won't freaking help. _

Kirra growled in frustration, moved to crouch in front of the man so that he was looking directly at her. She spoke slowly -- and somewhat sarcastically -- motioning the whole while.

"You." _(Pointing to the man)_ "Have to help me." _(Two hand motion to herself)_ "Get you." (_Pointing to him once again_) "Onto." _(Sweeping upwards movements)_ "My horse." _(Pointing to Fate)_ "So you." (_Him again_) "Don't die." _(Comical -- okay, not so comical -- death face.)._ She was wet and scared.

Kirra watched as the man's eyes cleared for a moment and he mumbled something like, "Yes." But not in English. Had Kirra not already been so shaken by the evening she would have flopped down beside him right there in the mud and rain and given up. As it was, given the craziness of the storm -- and the fact that some guy was lying in it with arrows sticking out of him, his speaking a dead language that Kirra herself spoke wasn't all that nuts.

It had been found once Lil and Scott had gotten their new daughter home that the unknown language she had been speaking was Latin, well a strain of Latin. It was an ancient strain that contained different words and phrases and with some words that no one had ever heard before and others used in strange ways.

It had started the first time they took her to an all Latin mass. Kirra had excitedly tugged on her new father's sleeve and with a grin gestured to the priest, moving her small hand in a pantomime of the man talking and then pointed to her head and nodded, clearly saying that she understood what he was saying. She had been disappointed to learn after she had tracked the man down, that the mass was the only thing he knew in the language. But her parents had soon found a Latin professor from the college to speak with her and teach her English.

Kirra was brought out of astonishment rather quickly when the man sort of lurched to his feet and stood there swaying. He must have understood her motioning -- she felt slightly guilty for the sarcasm -- but knew she had to hurry and get him onto Fate because if he passed out again, which he looked very likely to do, she wouldn't be able to get him up again.

Placing his arm over her shoulder, Kirra let him lean on her and they struggled to Fate's side. Fate watched them curiously but stayed very still. The man placed both hands on Fate's saddle and stood there for a moment gathering his last reserves of strength. Kirra gave him a little urgent nudge; he turned to her with glazed eyes, took a deep breath and smoothly mounted.

She was not expecting that. It seemed he knew how to ride, though as soon as he was on Fate's back, he folded over her neck, apparently having lost consciousness again. Kirra thought that was probably for the best considering his greater height and the fact that she wouldn't have been able to see around him to guide Fate. She mounted behind him, pushed her dripping hair from her eyes, again, and nudged Fate into an urgent but gentle canter.

They rode for a good fifteen or twenty minutes like that, the man unconscious and Kirra trying to keep him from tumbling to the ground. It was not easy, he was heavy and Kirra could hardly reach around him, and the dratted rain would not stop. It wasn't a cold rain, just an annoying hard-to-see-where-you-are-going rain. Good thing both she and Fate knew the way to Niara's with their eyes closed. Niara would know what to do. She always knew what to do.

The little company reached the little cottage sooner then Kirra thought they should, but she wasn't about to complain about it. The windows were awash with light and beckoned cheerfully to them. Kirra was sure that Niara would have some hot tea waiting and there would be dry clothes.

_Heaven. Pure heaven._

Then she stopped herself, it was silly to be thinking of hot tea and dry clothes when there was an injured, possibly dying, man lying over the neck of your horse, bleeding all over the place, and there may be some psycho killer out to get you, but hey, gotta keep positive, right?

Kirra heard a faint barking over the din of falling water. It was Finn and his noise caused her heart to began racing again as she looked up, squinting through the rain. He never barked; he hated the sound of his bark. Kirra sat up straighter in the saddle peering into the waterlogged gloom for Niara. Was something wrong with Niara?

No, the old woman was in the doorway waiting for them, candle in hand. Kirra sagged in relief, it had been such a long, strange day and she was weary. Fate stopped automatically when they got to the porch and Niara placed the candle in the porch and hurried out to meet them.

She was a small, wrinkled old woman with long, white hair, a hunched back, and clear, intelligent eyes. Kirra had known Niara all her life, as had her father. It seemed that she had always been on the family's land, the only person not a member of the family to be there. She paid a small rent every month without fail always on the first of the month, rain or shine. Kirra's father often joked that Niara was more reliable then the mail.

As a young child, fresh from adoption, Niara had been the first person Kirra had ever met. She had come to call the day Scott and Lil returned with their newest member in tow and the child had taken to the old woman with such enthusiasm and the old woman to the child that the new parents could hardly deny her visitation. Thus, a tight friendship had been formed. Niara was like the grandmother Kirra had never known. When Kirra was with Niara her parents never worried, though, if they had known some of the things the old woman was teaching their daughter they might have had a few reservations.

"What have you here, Kirra?" The old woman touched the man's knee, "I was a little worried when Finn came running and you were not with him." Frowning as she peered into the man's face, she muttered, "Is it time already?"

Kirra raised an eyebrow. "He kind of fell out of the sky, Niara. I didn't know where else to take him. My house is too far away. Plus, he's hurt. "

"Hurt?" Niara echoed.

_Hurt? Was that all she could think of to say?_

Kirra narrowed her eyes, thinking that Niara didn't truly grasp the magnitude of the situation. "Yeah, he's got about three arrows in him -- arrows, Niara." She paused to let it sink in. She didn't even believe it and she had been the one to find them. "I'll leave him with you and ride to my house and call the police and ambulance." She looked around uneasily, "The people who did this could still be out there."

"Dear," Niara's cultured voice was completely unruffled, "the police will not be able to find who did this to him. I don't even think that you will have electricity. The storm took care of that. Let's just get him down and see what we can do to help." Niara had no phone and hardly ever used the electricity she did have.

Kirra frowned and reluctantly slid off of Fate, "He's a big guy, Niara, and I can't lift him by myself. I had to slap him pretty hard to wake up just to get him up there."

"Slap him?"

Kirra opened her mouth to argue, but Niara waved her off, "Never mind, dear. Let's just get him down and inside. I may be getting old, but we'll manage. Go 'round to the other side and push him off."

"He'll flatten you, Niara."

"Kirra," the woman's voice was sharp, "get over there and push him. I will be fine until you get 'round again."

"Fine." Kirra growled in irritation. "Finn help her." She pulled at the dog's collar until he was leaning against the old woman, supporting her.

Niara smiled as she heard Kirra grumble something about the 'stubborn granma', then focused her attention on the task at hand, he was a big man, bigger then she had thought he would be. He had been a rather smallish baby.

"Ready?" Kirra's voice was hard to hear over the sound of the rain.

"Yes dear, just be gentle. We don't want to disturb those arrows any more then we have to."

_Good luck._ Kirra thought then called, "Ready? One, two, three."

Niara heard Kirra grunt slightly with effort and the man rolled onto her, causing her to stagger, he _was_ heavy. Good thing Finn was there behind her. For a moment Niara thought she really was going to be flattened and she swallowed the urge to giggle like an undignified girl. That would certainly be the way to go.

Kirra was around in a second, taking the man under his arms. Niara let her drag him into the living room and heave him onto the couch. Then she stood breathing hard from her exertions and looking at Niara, plainly asking what to do, without saying a word.

"Dear, go and fetch the gauze bandages, needles and thread, and the herbal packets that you and I have been assembling. The ones of yarrow," -- Kirra raised her eyebrows at the proposed use of such a powerful herb – "comfrey, and grab some garlic. I'll get the wash water and cloths." Kirra turned without another word and left the room, leaving a trail of water.

As Niara went to the kitchen to gather her cloths and water, questions whirled through her mind. Had so much time passed already? She had not been told when exactly it would start. It was certainly a surprise that the man had entered their lives in this way; one that Niara had not been informed of.

Well, they would find out tonight. Tonight was the great testing field and this time it was a human life and not an animal's that hung in the balance. Was Kirra ready for the responsibility that would soon be hers? Could she actually do what needed to be done?

She wondered how Kirra would take the news. It would show her strength of spirit if she accepted it. Keeping the truth from Kirra for so long _had_ worried Niara, but she had been restrained and unable to tell the girl of her past. It had not been the right time. Now, suddenly it was the right time and frankly, Niara dreaded it. _Well,_ she thought, _we will have to deal with that later._ Right now they both needed clear heads and calm hands.

Kirra was waiting in by the couch when Niara returned. She had neatly laid out the required items on a small low table and even stirred up the small fire in the fire place, as Niara had not time before the storm hit. She had even placed a bunch of dried lavender on it. The light, acrid smell calmed the two women and maybe the wounded man also.

"Kirra dear, you are dripping on the rug."

Kirra looked down at the wet rug in confusion. She had forgotten that she was wet. Once the realization hit her, she shivered.

"Why don't you go and take care of Finn and Fate and change into some dry clothing while I start the dill and marigold steeping and prepare the garlic paste. I'll not begin without you, but be quick."

Kirra nodded once and left the room.

---------------

Outside, Kirra whistled for Fate, who was standing under an old oak tree trying to get out of the worst of the rain. It was still coming down heavily. Kirra squinted at the cloud darkened sky and wished it would stop so the moon could come out.

She had always loved the moon and its guiding phases. The moon was the guardian of women and there was a real power in it that she could never fail to feel. It was power she knew they would need tonight. Niara had taught her that and Kirra believed her, she had always felt her calmest during a full moon. Others said that it is a time for bogeymen to come out, but it was an idea Kirra scoffed. Only good things happened in the silver light of the moon.

She was distracted as she led the patient mare into the small shed that doubled as a stable when Kirra was visiting. Finn had already made himself at home and was sprawled on a large pile of straw. He didn't lift his head as Kirra entered, but his tail thumped against the straw a few times. Apparently the race over had tuckered him out.

Kirra scratched the dog behind the ears before ignoring him to care for Fate. The statement Niara had made when she first saw the man was niggling at her mind. She felt there were things the old woman wasn't telling her and couldn't fathom why she was so against going for a real doctor. Kirra had great faith in Niara's abilities -- and to a lesser extent-in her own, but this was a man not some hurt animal.

"What do you think, girl?" Kirra asked the horse as she rubbed her dry with the old towels left for just such a purpose and clipped a blanket in place. "I have no reason not to trust Niara, but this is just so weird."

The mare's only reply was to begin enthusiastically on the oats Kirra had thrown into her feed bin.

"I suppose you are right," The girl said with a laugh. "It is not worth the worry. Niara knows what she is doing. Thanks for the talk." Kirra gave Fate one final pat and left her to her much deserved dinner. Finn snored softly in his corner.

Outside the rain had not slackened and Kirra trudged through the swamped yard to the house. She couldn't get any wetter so it didn't matter if she ran or not. Inside was warm and something unreadable hung heavy in the air. Kirra could feel it.

It reminded her of the electrical feeling that caused her hair to stand on end, the kind that happened right before a storm, something that could be felt in the air but not seen in the still cloudless sky. Something was going to happen tonight, something big.

Kirra removed her shoes at the door and walked, squelching slightly in her wet socks and wishing when she spotted the mess she had made that she had remembered to remove her shoes earlier, through the living room. Niara was bustling about gathering blankets and setting towels out. The man was the same, unconscious and silent.

Entering the room that was hers, Kirra saw that Niara had put a towel on the bed for her. She opened a drawer and took out some of the clothing she kept her for just such purpose. She peeled her wet clothes off and left them in a heap on the chair to be dealt with later. Slowly she toweled off and pulled on her sweatshirt and jeans.

It felt so good to be in dry clothes after being so wet. The cotton was warm and soft and Kirra had the sudden urge to lie down and take a nap, the excitement of the day catching up with her and the adrenaline was receding. She rubbed her face extra hard with the towel in hopes of reviving herself and turned to deal with her hair.

She paused in front of the mirror and frowned. Her heavy, dark hair was made heavier still by the soaking it had received from the rain. It hung wet and dripping down her back and was quickly soaking her dry sweatshirt.

Normally, she felt it was her best feature and it _was_ beautiful when it was dry, but there were tons of it and it always seemed to be in her eyes. To her utter consternation, almost any way she wore it tendrils would escape and obscure her vision. But it was lessened when she kept it long rather then short and she had gotten into the habit of buying tiny plastic clips and twisting bits of it here and braiding bits of it there and fastening the whole woven mess with them. It wasn't bad looking, in fact, Kirra actually liked it. It seemed to fit her.

But tonight, she wanted it out of the way completely, so she toweled it as dry as best she could and twisted it into a thick bun, securing it with a couple of pencils. With one last glance in the mirror and content that her hair would, at least for the time being, stay out of the way, Kirra left the room, feeling almost confident that she was ready for what the night would bring.


	3. Chapter 3

**#3 The Beginning**

Once in the living room, Kirra paused and stared at the unconscious man on the couch. His round face was almost grey and pinched in pain, though he was unconscious. A nasty gash over one eye, trickled blood into his long hair darkening it more then the rain had.

His hair was long and messy, not the way that men usually wore their hair. As it was still quite wet and now bloody, it was hard to tell but looked to be some sort of blonde because a blonde beard covered most of his face which made it impossible to determine how old he actually was. Kirra supposed he was handsome, in a disheveled sort of way.

She was shocked to note, however, that he looked much bigger lying on Niara's small floral couch then he had folded over Fate's neck. His shoulders were almost broader then the couch seat and his arms were, well, defined was the only word that came to mind. He definitely looked like a guy who worked out -- a lot -- with really heavy stuff. Not that Kirra knew anyone like that. Kirra had never been one to have a lot of guy friends, or boyfriends for that matter. Most of the guys in her high school had been too caught up in their fast cars and really tall, leggy cheerleader girlfriends to notice anyone like small, dark, different Kirra.

The man's clothing was strange as well. Kirra had no idea what to call each article. He wore a strange studded, short-sleeved shirt. He had wide leather wrist bands and a knife, for heaven's sakes, strapped to a belt at his waist.

Kirra rolled her eyes, _where did this guy come from? _

Had he attended some weird tourist festival in one of the nearby towns? One of those where the players got dressed up and re-enacted historical stuff? Could one of their little plays gotten out of control? It wouldn't have surprised her; Kirra had always been a little leery of those people. Who would want to do _that_, go back in time? It was hard enough for her living in the here and now, to ever want to go back to a time when there was not even the luxury of a flushing toilet or running water.

Surprisingly, Kirra felt a sting of disappointment when she thought about it. It was a pity if he was one of them. Her face flamed when she felt Niara watching her and she stopped in her analysis of the weight lifting tourist re-enactor with a sheepish little grin.

"How do we start?" She asked, hoping the low light of the room would hide her interest and red face.

Normally, she would have dived right in -- if it had been an animal, but things went differently with humans. It was slightly daunting. She pushed up her sleeves and washed her hands thoroughly in a bowl of water that Niara had prepared for just such a purpose.

"Maybe you should try to wake him," Niara offered, "so that we can find out his name. It will be easier with his name and permission to help."

Drying her hands, Kirra looked at the man dubiously; he still had a red mark on his cheek from where she had last tried to wake him. It looked like it was going to bruise. "I tried that already. I am not sure he would want me to do it again. It took considerable … force."

"Well, then I will just have to teach you how to without using force." Niara replied.

"You know, that information would have been helpful yesterday, Niara."

Ignoring the sarcasm in Kirra's voice, the old woman went on, "Yes, I am sure _he_ wished you would have learned that particular talent yesterday as well, but you didn't and that can't be helped now, so stop talking and concentrate."

She proceeded to teach Kirra a low crooning chant. When the girl's pronunciation was correct and she had memorized the syllables, the language being so ancient, there was no direct translation, Niara had her kneel near the man's head.

"Just place your hand on his head, close your eyes, say the chant, and look. You will know when you find what you are looking for."

Having worked with Niara before, Kirra relaxed, drew in a deep breath and did as she explained. The old woman covered her hand with one of her own soft, gnarled ones. Kirra had just finished the last syllable of the chant when she was pulled into a whirlwind. Strangely enough, she stayed stationary while everything else around her swirled in a kaleidoscope of color and sound.

All in all, it made her rather sick to her stomach and Kirra realized with a start -- it almost broke her concentration -- that she was inside the man's head. And she felt as though she were an alien presence that she knew he could feel even if he couldn't see her and she knew he didn't like it. There was a pressure building up in the back of her head and Kirra had the nagging suspicion that it was him trying to dispel her perceived presence.

The pressure built up considerably, causing her head to ache fiercely, and feeling his strength even injured as he was, Kirra preferred that he didn't see her. She stood motionless on the edge of his mind looking in and listening until the words swirling in the pictures began to make sense. It was hard to know the importance of the pictures because they were moving far too quickly for her to understand, which was just as well because they were not her memories, but the man's and it is definitely not polite to sit in on another's memories.

The words rose and receded somewhat like a tide, growing louder at the start of a new memory and then softer until it was just a whisper in the wind and finally ending in a second of silence before another memory began.

Kirra squeezed her eyes shut, listening hard, it took all her concentration to understand the rapid Latin assaulting her from all directions. Then she heard something being said by another man. The same was laughing and egging the man on the couch on in some venture and it took Kirra a second or so before it became clear what the man's name was.

_Gawain_.

Kirra opened her eyes and in surprise murmured the name, calling the man, without removing her hand from his head and distancing her presence from his mind. In that moment the swirling wind stopped and he saw her clearly and knew her as something apart from himself. It was comfortable for neither of them, but especially for Gawain because he had no idea what was going on. But it was done and so caused several things to happen at the same time.

--------------------

Gawain suddenly regained consciousness and upon seeing the young woman who had been hovering in his mind only moments before now sitting beside him, staring at him with startled gray eyes, he reacted, grabbing her wrist before she had a chance to jump away. His blue eyes glittered dangerously as he applied pressure.

The girl gasped and went still and pale; she could see shock and something like fear in those eyes and didn't want to risk him doing something that both of them would regret. It was clear by the slight intake of breath when Gawain had grabbed her that the girl was quite certain that he could inflict some real hurt on her person.

"Who are you?" He rasped, sounding weaker then he intended. He didn't have the strength for interrogation at the moment, but he didn't want the witch to know that.

Kirra, startled as much at the sudden consciousness of the man as at his perfect Latin, but also not happy about having her wrist crushed by an ungrateful bastard re-enactor, so-and-so, who probably only learned it so that he could run around the country being an idiot, didn't answer, only glared at him in stubborn defiance.

Niara, recognizing the stubborn look on Kirra's face, moved so that Gawain could see her and answered in a soft voice, "You are safe with friends, we won't harm you."

Gawain's eyes flicked over the old woman, but came to rest again on the girl, who was looking at the old woman in surprise. She resembled someone … but that was impossible. She had to be a witch and he had to be dreaming, yet he was in far too tired and feeling too much pain to be dreaming.

He repeated his question and squeezed her wrist harder, grinding the bones together. The pain was excruciating and he knew the girl was working hard not to whimper. The force of his crushing grip caused her to bend a little closer to him, definitely not something she desired. She fought the urge to panic and pull away knowing that, regardless of his weakened state, Gawain had a hold of her tight enough to break her wrist if she moved. She could see in his eyes that he knew it too.

So through clenched teeth, she told him, "I'm Kirra, that's Niara. I found you near the forest looking like a human pincushion and decided to try and help you out." Sweat had beaded on her forehead and her breath came in small gasps.

Niara stood behind Kirra looking over her shoulder, watching, "That is quite enough of that, Gawain," she said sharply.

The blonde man's icy eyes flicked to the old woman again. Was she another witch?

"You turn her loose at once. She needs both hands if she is to help you."

He held on to the girl for a moment longer while deciding on whether or not he truly wanted her help until she half-growled half-hissed, "When you have decided, I would like to have my hand back before it is snapped off."

When he released her, she sagged, her breath coming out in a small _whoosh_, then she bounded to her feet and cradling her wrist moved well out of his reach, glaring at him with hard, almost black eyes. Gawain watched her warily. That expression in those eyes was so familiar, it was frightening. She looked as if she would enjoy nothing more then giving one of the arrows stuck in him a good hard twist and had she been someone else, she would have.

"Well, I hardly think that was necessary. You were taught better then to harm an unarmed woman, especially one trying to help you." Niara's voice was cool and reproving.

"Kirra?" She turned to the young woman and held out her hand, Kirra slowly came to her and let her take her wrist. After examining it Niara turned back to Gawain, he was pale and trembling from the exertion. "She was lucky, dear," she said calmly, "you nearly broke it."

Gawain said nothing and looked less then repentant.

Niara stroked the Kirra's wrist gently and murmured a few words, "Better?" The girl nodded, moving her hand around. "Good, we will attend to that further, after him." Again Kirra only nodded silently, her eyes dark and stormy.

Niara fixed the man with a sharp look, "We are healers and want only to help you. Are you going to behave?"

Gawain, feeling his weakness and realizing he had no other alternative, gave a sullen nod, "Yes."

"Good, Kirra, you know how to start."

Kirra knelt down to look Gawain in the eyes. Her controlled rage made her low voice hard, "We have to take a few arrows out of you. There is going to be pain, probably a lot of it, do you want to be conscious or unconscious?"

Gawain was confused by her manner of speaking. His was so cold and his head was spinning so that her face flickered in and out of sight. He still had no idea who these women were and was uncomfortable with the fact that they were familiar, especially the younger. Maybe he was dead? But if that were the case why was there so much pain? He honestly hoped death did not feel like this. He knew he had committed many forced crimes, but an eternity of pain? Well, that was really just not fair.

He echoed the girl's words, "Conscious or unconscious?"

"Yes, I can put you back to sleep, or you can stay awake until you pass out again from the pain. It's your choice and your pain." She said tightly, still indignant from the wrenching he had given her wrist. It didn't seem to matter to her that he was the one with blood leaking from multiple wounds.

"Kirra …" Niara started, but was interrupted by Gawain's answer.

"Awake," The expression on his face plainly stating that he didn't trust them and even though he was damaged almost to the point of not being able to move, he wanted to be conscious enough to at least make an attempt to resist whatever it was they wanted to do to him, if it became necessary.

"Fine, let's start." Kirra was surprised when he forced himself to sit up.

As he did so she noticed a large blood stain on the couch where he had been lying that had not come from any of the arrow wounds. Even though she was angry, her hands were gentle as she ran them down his side. Gawain twitched away when she touched his ribs and he saw her hand came away stained red. Niara handed her a pair of scissors and Kirra cut away some of the shirt to expose his side.

She sucked in her breath at the sight; pale bone gleamed dully in the candle light where a large gash crosshatched his ribs. A section of skin and muscle had been scraped off and was now hanging to the side, like what ever had cut him had slid and peeled back the skin. Kirra's stomach churned violently and she glanced over at Niara with sickened eyes. It was a mess and he had lost a lot of blood.

"Are there any other … uh ... wounds we should know about?" she asked shakily.

Niara passed her a cloth, which Kirra placed on his side after gingerly folding the flap of skin back into place. She held it there applying gentle pressure to slow the bleeding a bit more. She whispered strange sounding words and amazingly Gawain felt the pain ease.

He trembled with cold. His skin was ashen and his breath caught as he spoke, "Just these," he nodded to the arrows, "and something on my side. Don't remember …" His voice was faint and Kirra noticed for the first time that it was oddly accented.

Kirra gulped, forcing her stomach to behave and made quick note of the positions of the arrows.

"You'll have to break the head off in order to get it out." Niara instructed, gesturing to the one in his shoulder.

It had gone all the way through and the bloody tip had broken through the skin. It would be somewhat easy to remove, provided there were no slivers of wood left when the shaft was snapped. Another, imbedded in his thigh, had already been broken. Making it harder to remove depending on whether or not it had hit the heavy bone. Kirra prayed it hadn't.

Decided in her course of action, Kirra removed the cloth that she had been holding at his side and placed both hands on the feathered shaft in Gawain's shoulder one on either side. She counted to three, and snapped the arrow, so all that remained was what was still in his shoulder and the tip that had broken through the back. It was a clean break and Kirra knew that nothing would be left to fester in the wound. Gawain jerked, silent but unable to hold still. A muscle could be seen rippling along his jaw, visible even through his beard. Kirra tossed the shaft onto the table and wrapped the tip in a rag. Grasping it firmly, she slowly and steadily pulled. It slid out with a soft sucking noise and Gawain sagged.

The hole was bleeding profusely. Kirra grabbed a few more cloths, dipped them in the herbed water and applied pressure. She started a tuneless humming and Gawain felt his shoulder catch fire.

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. _Leave me and let me die_, he thought. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face and he was shaking convulsively, but as suddenly as it had flared up the fire stopped and his shoulder cooled to a steady but manageable throb. He released the breath he hadn't realized her had been holding and smelled something that he hadn't in years, the wild smell of the steppes where he had been born mingled with a faint floral scent. His heart jumped in his chest at the thought even as his mind rejected it.

It was impossible; he was here inside a cottage in the middle of the night, in a rainstorm, further than he could ever believe from his homeland. Gawain licked his lips, amazed to find his mouth awash in the taste of fresh cool water and turned his dazed eyes to look at his shoulder, Kirra was no longer holding it and there was no longer a gaping hole, but what looked like a cut. A little blood trickled from it and it needed stitching, but it was now something that could be managed.

He felt the girl's cool hands on his shoulders, pushing him to lie back again. He let her and lay there limply looking into her calm grey eyes. Who was this woman? What had she done to him? Why did she look so like … oh … who was it? Gawain couldn't recall at the moment what was so familiar about her. His head was spinning and rational thought was difficult; he was so tired. He closed his eyes, only to re-open them when she asked him something he didn't catch.

Kirra repeated her question, "Are you sure that you want to be awake for all this? We still have another arrow to remove and some sort of nasty slash to clean and sew up. Do you really want to go through that?"

She couldn't even begin to imagine what he was feeling and she watched the look in his eyes slowly change from pain and exhaustion to something like shame and he looked away, much like a child who reaches for something he knows he shouldn't have. Kirra sighed, her anger completely gone, and reached for a clean cloth that had been soaking in the herbed wash water.

"You know," she began to gently wipe his face, cleaning it of mud and the blood from the cut over his eyebrow. Gawain closed his eyes at the momentary sting. He would have a spectacular bruise there too. Gawain felt himself slipping into the dark, lulled by her voice and the motions of her cool hands stroking his face and hair. As he listened to her he felt himself beginning to trust her, she continued.

"There is nothing wrong with not wanting to be in pain. In fact, the absence of it usually helps to heal faster." Then she smiled a sweet smile and chided, "I think that all you men, even you really manly-men, would do a little better if you took that to heart. So," Kirra's soothing ministrations stopped and Gawain opened his eyes once again to hers. Her voice was sober, "I'll ask only once more, you want pain or not?"

Niara was watching the whole exchange with interest. It was taking precious time, but she had never seen Kirra quite like this. There she was gently, almost tenderly, wiping the face of a man she didn't know -- who had almost broken her wrist, in attempt to get him to relax and agree to go back to sleep. It confirmed the feeling that Kirra was supposed to be doing this and that she would be fine no matter what the future held for her.

Gawain was quiet for so long that Kirra finally said, "Well, I will take no answer as a yes. That way your manly-men buddies will never have to know that you wussed out."

He smiled faintly in appreciation, though he was only sure of the meaning behind the words, not the words themselves.

Kirra moved to place her hand back on his head, "You sure you're not going to try and snap it off again, right?" Gawain shook his head. "Good." She placed her hand on his head and whispered the words that would send him back unto the cool, dark oblivion


	4. Chapter 4

Everyone ready for another round with Gawain and Kirra? I decided, in celebration of Thanksgiving, to post two chapters. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. Have a great holiday and eat plenty of turkey and pie! And please, by all means, REVIEW!!!

**#4 On Her Own**

Once Gawain had slipped back into unconsciousness, Kirra turned to Niara, "I am really worried about that … mess … on his side. Are you sure we shouldn't get a hold of a real doctor or something?"

"No dear, trust me on this, it is better for him that you tend to him and in this way, then if he went to a hospital and had a doctor do it." Kirra looked at her skeptically. "I will explain it further to the both of you later, when he is feeling better."

"Okay," Kirra said still a bit unsure. "Let me finish his shoulder then we'll move on."

The two women worked long into the night. They first had to get all of Gawain's dirty, wet and bloody clothing off and wash him up a bit before they continued with the rest of his wounds. Upon removing his clothes they had found an additional wound in his calf.

It appeared that he had been hit with an arrow but he had either ripped it out, Kirra's stomach rolled at the thought, or it had been torn out at some point before he had fallen at Kirra's feet. At any rate it was no tidy little wound. Kirra slowed the bleeding and turned to finish his shoulder. After stitching and bandaging Gawain's shoulder she began to work on his side.

Niara helped with the washing, which took a long time and when they were finished the flesh was almost white. Kirra used water that had dill and marigold infused into it, but she strengthened it the way that Niara had taught her.

Niara's methods were ancient; she had been taught by – well, Kirra wasn't quite sure who had taught her, Niara had never told her that, but whoever it had been had known what they were doing. She had taught Kirra to strengthen water that had been infused with several herbs by placing a bit of the blood person to be healed in the water. There was a song that was then sung over the bowl.

When all was said and done the water took on a silvery glow and strangely enough it stayed warm and clean until it was replaced Niara said it was a bit of the moon that was called down to help when the song was sung. Kirra wasn't sure about that, but it worked, so she did it.

She was interrupted once as she prepared the water by a fierce burning in the inside of her left wrist. Looking down she saw what looked like a heavily inked tattoo. A small perfectly round circle was suspended between the two points of a crescent that pointed inward, toward her heart. There was a matching burn on her shoulder. Niara glanced over at her small gasp.

"You are fine, Kirra." She said softly after examining the mark. "It is merely a sign of power. We will find you something to cover it with during the day. No doubt it will burn a little each time you use your powers to heal. It helps to channel them."

"My parents won't be too happy about it," Kirra commented looking down at the small mark.

In fact, they probably wouldn't be too happy about a lot of things that would transpire on this particular night. They would probably wish that they had an ordinary daughter, one who got in trouble having parties when her parents were out of town not spending the time stitching up strange men with strange and deadly wounds using strange and mystical ways.

"They will be fine with it," Niara said in reassuring tones, though it was likely that Kirra's parents would never know about the marking the goddess chose to give their adopted daughter. "Please continue, Kirra. We cannot leave him in the dark for too long."

Kirra nodded and sang as she stirred the water in her bowl with a bloody finger, figuring that if anyone was in need of a little extra strengthening tonight, it was Gawain. She frowned slightly, the only problem with the water was that it burned like fire when placed on a wound and it foamed -- which could be a scary sight, but when that foam had been wiped away, the wounds were always more then half healed and there were no problems with infection, either.

Niara had made Kirra perform this on all the hurt animals that she had ever brought over and once she had done it to Kirra, so that she would know how it felt. But this was the first time that Kirra, herself, had ever done it to a human.

Because of the way the water made one feel, Kirra was very glad that Gawain had chosen to go back to sleep. She would have hated to see the look in his eyes as she poured it over his side. In fact, she highly doubted that he could have even retained consciousness. If he did, she was sure he would have really tried to kill her; she would have, had she been in his place.

She wished that Niara would have done the stitching and said so, but Niara just waved her off and told her that her eyes were better and her stitches smaller. Kirra's stomach started rolling again the moment she stuck the needle in Gawain's skin. She tried to convince herself that she was simply mending some torn clothes, but found that didn't really work when the "cloth" was always warm and pink and, well, attached to a human. She went as fast as she possibly could and still do her best. Eternities later, when she was finally finished, Kirra found she was shaking and drenched in sweat.

As the night wore on, things got worse. It seemed that the arrowhead in Gawain's thigh had lodged in the bone and would not budge, no matter how hard Kirra pulled on it. He had been lucky, though, in that it had managed to miss any major arteries or veins, had it hit something, he would have bled to death long before Kirra could have gotten him to Niara.

After a few more fruitless tugs on the arrow, Kirra knew she had to do what she had been trying to avoid. Taking a small silver knife of Niara's, Kirra cut deep into the flesh of Gawain's leg. She had to wedge the thin blade of the little knife between the heavy thigh bone and the tip of the head. It was a bloody task and when it was at last free, Kirra had blood up to her wrists.

Kirra turned to Niara, bloodied hands held in front of her face, the shock and horror stark in her eyes had caused them to darken. Sweat had trickled down her face and mingled with the tears that had come sometime during the ordeal. For her or for the man she worked on, Kirra couldn't be sure.

All she knew was she wasn't supposed to know how to do this and she certainly wasn't supposed to let anyone go through this. There were hospitals and doctors and lots of pain killing drugs for this kind of thing. What had Niara been thinking when she gave her this task? The old woman's face was sympathetic but she only patted Kirra's cheek and told her that she must finish; that she just couldn't very well leave Gawain lying there with a bloody gash in his leg.

"This is what you were born for child. You have the strength and the power to do what must be done, if you do not, no one will."

Kirra had no idea what Niara was talking about. Her mind was numb. She slowly turned back to Gawain and covered the gash she had made in his leg with her hand. Stuttering she whispered a few words, the blood dried to a trickle almost immediately.

She reached for a silver needle and began the laborious process of stitching the remaining cut up. Her hand shook and sweat burned her eyes, but at last she was finished. She spread a thick layer of the garlic paste Niara had made across the stitching and wrapped it. She sat back, numb and wiped her hands off. When she looked at Niara, her eyes were blank.

Niara gripped her shoulder and told her to go and prepare some water for tea. They would all need some. While Kirra was gone, Niara finished with the last wound and covered Gawain with an old blanket; he was shivering again from the loss of blood. But she waited for Kirra to return and awaken him. He would need to drink some of the tea to prevent infection and fever before he could be moved to a bed so that he could rest more comfortably than on a too short sofa.

Kirra came in a short while later, dark circles under her eyes and face pink from the scrubbing she had given it to remove her tears. "Niara, I am so sorry. I just couldn't go on. I … there was so much blood … and I …"

"Kirra, dear, it is all right. I finished. You did wonderfully, much better then I did my first time. You are different then even I. Times are different. It is a lot to ask of one so young and a lot to expect of you, but you will do fine."

"What will I do fine with, Niara?" Kirra wanted to know. She was tired of all the evasive answers and thought that after what she had just done she deserved an explanation. "And how is it that you speak Latin and know him?"

"I told you, I will explain everything; but for now, be patient and help me finish. I have to go and find a few more things, please wake him and get him to drink a bit of the tea. You did sweeten it, didn't you?"

Kirra nodded. She had dumped in about half a jar of honey. It was a powerful but bitter brew and definitely not something that you would want to drink while feeling bad anyway.

Niara left the room and Kirra placed her hand once again on Gawain's forehead. She called softly for him to wake up. His eyes opened groggily.

"I had the strangest dream," He said softly, surprising Kirra.

She placed the mug in his hand, "Well, if you drink this, I'll let you tell me about it."

Now fully awake, Gawain eyed it suspiciously.

"It is just a tea. Really, I don't think that I would try to poison you after all that I have done to keep you alive tonight." Kirra took it from him and sipped a bit to prove that it wasn't going to kill him. She struggled to keep her face composed, it still needed more honey. Repressing a shudder, she handed it back and slipped her hand beneath his head to help him.

He resisted and took the mug from her. "I am not a child; I can do it on my own."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

Kirra moved to curl in Niara's chair. She slumped, head on knees, suddenly exhausted. The night was catching up to her. She watched as Gawain took a heroic sized drink of the bitter tea, his face twisted in revulsion and he spat it out. A bit dribbled into his beard.

He sputtered, "You are certain you are not trying to kill me?"

Kirra surprised herself by throwing her head back and howling with laughter and relishing the feeling, "Did I mention that it tastes horrible? Sorry." She tossed a clean scrap of cloth at him, "Here you go, big boy, you have tea dripping off your chin."

Gawain picked it up, grimacing as he moved his shoulder and smiled ruefully, "Thank you."

Niara came back into the room with an armful of clothes. Upon seeing Kirra across the room from Gawain still laughing and Gawain wiping tea from his face, she asked, "Now what have you two done?"

Kirra spoke first, "Well, he is not a child, Niara. I think that he can drink a mug of tea by himself." She was giggling a little longer and more hysterically then the situation called for. It must have been her body's way of releasing tension.

Gawain looked at Niara and raised an eyebrow, "'Tis true -- under most circumstances." He muttered, eyeing the amber liquid in his cup.

"Well, since you are feeling well enough to joke about, you will have to help us get you dressed and back into bed." Niara left no room for argument.

Gawain blinked and looked down at himself and then over at Kirra, realizing that he was just covered in a blanket; his pale face flushed red, causing Kirra to just about fall out of her chair, laughing until tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Kirra, you are not helping matters." Niara's voice was firm.

"S-s-sorry," Kirra stuttered, regaining her self-control. She glanced over at Gawain's pleading eyes and grinned at the old woman. "Niara, he is a grown man, I think that our stitches will hold if he is allowed to dress himself. Although," she paused and shot a glance out of the corner of her eye at Gawain, "I don't know why he would need to be embarrassed, as we were the ones who removed his clothing in the first place."

Gawain felt his face grow even hotter and couldn't remember the last time someone had said something to cause him to redden. He wasn't sure why either, it wasn't as if a woman had never seen him naked before. It was just because of that familiar grey-eyed young woman. He wasn't sure that he wanted her, of all people to see him unclothed. The young woman in question was again howling in laughter at his discomfort, making him feel worse. Even the old woman had an amused smile on her face.

"Alright, Kirra stop that," Niara placed the clothes on the table next to Gawain. "You get dressed and we will go and make up your bed."

Kirra left the room, giggling and Niara leaned down to Gawain, "Don't worry about Kirra; she just needed a good laugh. Tonight was harder on her then you will ever know."

Gawain looked up at the old woman as if to say, _hard on her_?

Niara continued, ignoring the look, "Now, these are a bit different then you are used to," She motioned to the pile of clothing. "The shirt is on top, then the undergarment, and then the pants -- and yes, they are supposed to be that short. I was not sure how tall you would be, so I thought that would be the safest bet. Good luck and call me if you need help." Niara smiled and patted his cheek in a grandmotherly sort of way before leaving the room.

Gawain lay there for a moment bewildered. What had she been talking about? Who was that old woman? She had called him by name before he had ever given it, acted like she knew him, yet he couldn't recall ever meeting anyone like her. He painfully pulled himself upright and placed his feet on the floor. His head swam and for a moment he saw stars, but he was surprised that he didn't feel as bad as he though he should.

He still felt extremely weak and had some throbbing aches, but he could not remember the time when he had felt this good after being injured so bad. He was actually surprised he was alive, given what he remembered of his injuries, he should be dead.

His side was beginning to itch terribly and after nearly ripping his skin away by removing the bandages that covered his side -- they were sticky, Gawain inspected Kirra's handiwork as well as he could.

The gash was quite a bit more extensive then he remembered it being, he couldn't see where it ended, and had been stitched up and looked pretty good. He wrinkled his nose at the smell, though. What kind of paste had that she used? Deciding that it looked as if the girl had known what she was doing, he re-attached the bandages and smirked; Dag would have loved a few of those.

Picking up the pile of clothing that the old one had left, Gawain examined them as closely as he had his bound wound. They were strange, too soft and flimsy. He pulled out the shirt. It didn't really look all that different, whatever, he pulled it on. The undergarments were strange, strange, and strange -- wonderfully comfortable, he decided, but strange.

Exhaustion hit him then and with it a type of melancholy that comes with being badly injured and unable to remember all the moments between the times the injuries were sustained until the present. Where _was_ he? What had happened that caused him to be here? It was all so fuzzy and his head hurt to recall it. He slumped against the back of the … cot … he was on and winced as the stitches in his side pulled. He was starting to feel tired, muddled even, when Kirra came around the corner and stopped short.

"Um, okay, I am standing right here and I see half the clothes still on the table, so I am going to assume that they are not on you, so I am just going to stay right here."

Gawain sat up cursing silently at his pulling stitches, and threw the blanket over his lap. He immediately slumped back as Kirra came and sat by him after carefully covering the bloodied stain with a folded towel. She looked pale and worn.

"You look like I feel," -- Gawain glowered at her -- "okay, maybe you look worse then I feel and probably feel worse then I feel. I don't know what is going on here either, if it makes you feel any better."

He noticed that the sleeves of her shirt were stained with blood; he assumed correctly that it was his, "It does not."

In the silence that followed, Kirra fidgeted and turned to face him, "Sorry, all I can say is that I trust Niara completely. She seems to know you and she seems to know more about what is going on then the two of us put together.

"She said that she will explain all of this to us both once you are feeling better, and she is stubborn enough to make us wait until then. So, I guess what I am saying is that you just need to trust her and do what she says and all of this will work out."

The girl looked at Gawain from under a few tendrils of hair that had fallen over her eyes and it hit him. He knew exactly who she looked like. The resemblance was suddenly quite striking. He must have been hurt worse then he had originally thought not to have seen it before.

It was that realization that stopped him from pushing the tendrils behind her ear. He sighed, bewildered, "I told you that I would trust you. If you trust her, then I will also until she gives me reason not to." He noticed the livid bruises on her wrist, "I am sorry about your wrist. I didn't mean to hurt you -- you startled me."

She glanced at her wrist, "No, I am pretty sure that you meant it, but that's fine. I startled myself too. Sorry about popping into your head." Her face cracked into a grim smile at his expression and she nudged him with her knee, "Finished getting dressed and go to bed. You look like death." Then she got up and left Gawain feeling fuzzy and perplexed.


	5. Chapter 5

**#5 The Truth**

Gawain slept like the dead that night, waking only after the sun was high in the sky. He lay still for a moment assessing his aches and pains. There were surprisingly few.

The sun shone in through an open window in the room that he had fallen asleep in. The scent of herbs and cooking food wafted in through the cracked door. He realized that he was very hungry. All in all, it was the most peaceful he had felt in along time. Now, if he just could remember where exactly he was and how he had gotten there.

He rolled to the edge of the bed, gingerly sat up and examined the room. It was sparsely furnished with only a small bedside table and chest for storage. On the bedside table beside some folded bandages and a couple empty mugs, Gawain found his dagger.

He unsheathed it and fingered the blade, wondering briefly where his other weapons were. He noticed a chair had peen pulled up to the bed. A blanket was thrown haphazardly over it as though someone had been sitting with him during the night.

He let his eyes wander over the room. It was a clean, sparsely furnitured room. Only a few paintings hung on the wall, they looked to be of flowers -- typical woman's touch, and a small mirror was hung beside the door.

Gawain placed the dagger back on the table and carefully stood, testing his leg. It was a bit stiff and sore, but surprisingly hurt less then his side, which still throbbed. He took a few limping steps to the small mirror.

Now, Gawain wasn't vain, but the mirror was amazing. It was clear like ice, not at all like any of the mirrors that he had ever seen, not that he had seen many. He ran a finger across the smooth surface in wonder and then touched his face. He did look bad.

His face was impossibly white which made the bruise over one eye and the dark circles under both even more ghastly and he noticed a purple bruise on his cheek that he didn't remember getting. He ran a hand through his long hair. It caught half way down in a large snarl and wouldn't go any further.

As much as he hated to admit it, he did need a good combing. He chuckled, remembering what Kirra had said the night before; he thought he looked worse then death, more like something that had been dead for several months.

_Kirra. _

Was she even real or had she been a figment of his pain-riddled mind, something that he had conjured up to ease the pain of his body? And if she were just a figment of his mind, then why would she have features that so resembled … a shriek interrupted Gawain's thoughts.

It seemed to come from outside. Forgetting his injuries, he instinctively turned, snatched his dagger from the small table and bolted from the room. He threw open the front door to the cottage following the sound and was momentarily blinded by the sun. When he could see, he found himself staring out into a small yard.

Kirra was sprinting parallel to Gawain, chasing a huge gray dog that loped lazily just ahead of her. She didn't see Gawain and was yelling at the dog as she ran. He couldn't understand a word that she said and had no clue as to why she would be chasing the animal. But frankly, Gawain couldn't have cared less what she was saying as he was too busy watching her.

She moved swiftly and gracefully, like a young doe. Her dark hair was caught back in a fat braid and she was wearing the least amount of clothing that he had ever seen on a woman.

He gaped at her unable to hide his astonishment. Not even the tavern wenches wore so little clothing. She had on a strappy shirt – if it could be called that -- that hugged her curves and short, short pants that came only to her mid thigh. She was barefoot. Where were her clothes? He looked in confusion towards the dog. Is that why she was chasing the dog, had it taken them?

As the dog rounded the corner of the cottage, Kirra yelled one last time in frustration and flung something at it. She turned cursing and saw Gawain gawking at her.

She came towards him, "Stupid dog won't come and let me give him a bath. I have been chasing him most of the morning. He is positively filthy from the storms."

Her face was flushed with exertion and tendrils of damp hair framed her face. She was panting lightly and as she turned, he noticed a strange marking on one shoulder. Gawain's heart began to beat faster and he caught the light feminine scent of her as it wafted on the breeze.

Concerned by the look on his face Kirra asked, "Are you all right?"

She came nearer and moved as if to touch his face. His eyes widened and he fell back a step. She was shorter then he had thought. The top of her head only reaching his chest and she was slender, like a child.

Only no child he had ever met had made him feel like this. And feeling like this would only get him into severe trouble. Unable to look directly at her, Gawain stared at the tree behind her in the yard.

"I am fine. I thought I heard something and came to see what it was."

Kirra grinned mischievously, her grey eyes lightening, "Did you come to rescue me?"

Her eyes lit on the dagger he held in loosely in his hand, "You weren't planning to finish what you started the other night, were you?" She moved out of his reach and crossed her arms over her chest. "I told Niara putting that thing within reach was not a good idea."

Gawain looked at her then, "No." His eyes went to her wrist. It was wrapped in white bandages. "I heard a scream and responded."

"Aw-w, you did come to rescue me."

He didn't understand, one second she was teasing, the next moving out of reach, the next teasing again. Gawain found he was staring again and blushed. Kirra saw the color and worried it was fever, came forward to place a cool hand on his forehead, cheek, and then the side of his neck, checking his temperature. He shivered at her touch.

Finding no fever Kirra's eyes narrowed, "You sure you are feeling all right? Does Niara know you are out of bed?"

"I was not under the impression that I had to report to anyone," He responded in a severe tone.

"Hmmm, you might want to rethink that thought. Niara is one tough old lady. I think she may be even tougher then you," Kirra slipped an arm around his waist in support and began to lead him back to the house, "Come on, you need a shower."

"Shower?"

"Yeah, not only do you still look half dead, now you are starting to smell like it too."

Gawain stopped refusing to go another step and crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance.

Kirra looked up at him and sighed dramatically but her eyes were sparkling. "Don't tell me that I am now going to have to spend the other half of my day chasing you into a tub? Really, maybe I should tie both you and Finn up and hose you both off."

Gawain was not amused. Kirra's thick accent made it hard to follow her speech and she was using words that were foreign to him. She sensed it and quit her teasing. Her expressive eyes mellowing as she smiled softly.

"I am sorry. Come back inside and we will find Niara, she will explain all of this to us. And you really don't stink. I was only kidding. Niara and I cleaned you up." She was teasing again, waiting for him to blush.

He repressed the urge, barely, and instead echoed the strange word, "Kidding?"

"Yeah, you know, teasing?" Kirra looked up at him, thinking hard. "You do know what kidding is, don't you?"

"I do now."

"Hmmm," she said absently, chewing her lip and watching him through eyes narrowed in thought. "Come on." Then she released him and walked into the house leaving him in the yard. He heard her call for Niara.

----------------------

Niara bustled up to him when he entered the house. She felt his head, face and neck, much like Kirra had, the only difference was Gawain's pulse remained steady this time. "How are you feeling his afternoon?"

Gawain ignored her question, he was tired and his encounter with Kirra had left him irritable and confused, "Woman, who are you?"

Niara raised an eyebrow at his abruptness, "I see that Kirra got to you."

Her immediate ability to read him was as unnerving as it was irritating, "No, I just do not know where I am and would like a few answers, witch." He moved to stand over the older woman in attempt to intimidate her by his size.

A strong aura of power radiated from her and she faded as a much younger woman took her place. White hair became a bright fall of gold and she grew even taller than he was -- she grew to fill the whole room.

Gawain was aware of an intense silence, as if the world stood still waiting for this woman. Only her dark, ageless eyes remained the same and he felt that she could see into his very soul. When Niara finally spoke, it was the terrible sound of a great rushing wind.

She laughed lowly -- mockingly and the hair on the back of Gawain's neck stood up, but he defiantly held his ground. He was not about to let a woman scare him, witch or not.

"You are going to have to do better than that, if you intend to frighten me. You will not harm me. You couldn't even if you attempted it," The last part was said softly and somewhat menacingly.

What _was_ this woman?

Gawain saw Kirra over the woman's shoulder. She had clapped her hands over her ears and her eyes were squeezed shut. She was making small mewling noises. Had she known about this?

"Who are you?" His voice was soft, dangerously soft, and he tightened his grip on the only weapon he had at his disposal unafraid to use it if he had to.

Niara eyed him coolly, "You don't remember do you?"

Not waiting for his answer, she shrank back into the guise of the old woman and turned to pry Kirra's hands from her ears. She stroked young woman's hair until she regained her composure but the flushed glow of earlier had fled leaving her a sickly green.

Niara addressed them both, "Come children, the time for games is ended; now you must learn who you are and what you are to do." She took Kirra's hand and led her to the back leaving Gawain to limp behind.

------------------

In the back of the house was a large fragrant garden, this is where Niara led Kirra and Gawain. She handed Kirra a mug and watched as Kirra curled herself like a little cat into a chair in the sun. The color was slowly returning to her face. She wrapped her hands around the mug, using its heat to warm her. When Niara turned to face Gawain he took an involuntary step back, not wanting to be any closer to the woman or whatever she was, then was absolutely necessary.

She sighed, "You do not need to fear me. I just thought that you needed a little reminder of who I am and what I am capable of. Please sit down."

Gawain sat heavily in the nearest chair but did not relax. He his side ached and his leg ached and the events of the afternoon had not helped. He watched the witch carefully from the corner of his eye alert to her every move.

"Will the girl be all right?" He asked as she filled a plate and handed it to him. He stared at it dully, his hunger having abated and not sure if it was really safe to eat.

The woman poured herself a cup of tea and sat back, "Kirra will be fine. It happens sometimes with people like her. She has a type of power, so she cannot tolerate when mine is revealed. Our powers react like oil and water together. She feels something like a great pressure crushing her head. It makes her sick."

Gawain was quiet a moment, thinking, "Power?"

"Yes. Kirra, through her mother's line, has a great power to heal. It is a power that comes to very few people, her mother did not have it, nor even her grandmother's grandmother, but in Kirra it is strong. You witnessed the blossoming of it two nights ago."

He looked at the old woman in confusion. He did not think it possible that he could have slept for so long, "Two nights ago? It was only last night."

"No dear, it was two nights ago. You have been asleep for awhile. The healing was hard on you. Your body needed the extra sleep to catch up with the accelerated healing process. How else can you explain why you feel so well after such severe injuries?"

Gawain thought about it, there was no reason. He, by all accounts, should still be in bed unable to even roll over, much less able to run through a house in response to a screaming woman. The thought of someone using _powers_ to heal, though, seemed a little unlikely. He watched the old woman in distrust.

"Who are you, then?"

"I am one of the Fates." Niara said.

Gawain stared at her in disbelief and fear; Kirra looked over in confusion.

"What are the Fates?" she asked.

"The Fates are the handmaidens to the goddess. We serve her and do her bidding. I am the oldest of them, so naturally I assume the shape of an old woman when dealing with mortals."

"Mortals?" Kirra echoed, uncomprehendingly. "Niara, I don't understand. I have known you since I first came here."

The Fate turned to Kirra, "Longer then that, dear, I helped bring you into this world." She turned to Gawain, "And you also."

It clicked; Gawain nodded, aware now of who she was. "They said there was a strange woman who came to our tribe and helped my mother give birth to me. She later cam to help with the birthing of my younger brother, you were her weren't you. I was young, but I remember you now."

"Yes," Niara said sounding pleased that he remembered.

Kirra looked from Niara to Gawain and back again, "So what does that have to do with anything? Niara, who _is_ he?" She was frustrated.

"He is Gawain, dear, you know that."

"Ha. Ha. Ha. You know what I mean."

"Yes, I do, but I am afraid that you won't believe me if I tell you."

Kirra's eyes were grim, she had a feeling she wasn't going to like this conversation much, "Tell me anyway. If you tell me," she reasoned, "then why shouldn't I believe it? You have never lied to me before."

Her words caused Niara to inwardly wince. Gawain was watching with interest, waiting to hear what she would tell Kirra. Niara surprised him, by ordering him to tell Kirra who he was. Kirra's eyes had darkened dangerously as she turned to him and he suddenly wasn't so sure he wanted her to know who he was and wondered why it mattered.

"I am one of Arthur Castus' knights."

Kirra's brow furrowed and she glanced at Niara in question.

"King Arthur, dear," The Fate said quietly and with a trace of a smile.

Kirra laughed. Whatever Gawain had been expecting to do, it certainly wasn't that. He too shot a glance at the only person who seemed to know what was going on, but she sat composed, sipping her cup of tea as she waited for the conversation to straighten itself out.

"Oh yeah, and I am the Queen of Sheba," Kirra laughed sarcastically. "I think I must have messed with your head more then I thought." She stopped laughing when she saw the serious expression on Niara's face and rose from her chair, "You can't be serious. There is no way. I mean scholars aren't even sure if there was such a person. All those stories are thought of as _legend_." Niara didn't answer, so Kirra continued her tirade, gesturing, "I refuse to believe that _the_ Gawain of the stories is sitting here in your yard. It is impossible. Even _if_, and I stress the word, _if_ the stories were true, it would still be impossible. They supposedly lived, like fifteen hundred years ago.

"Yeah, I saw the TV special; I know what the historians think. It was _fifteen hundred_ years, Niara, how do you explain that?"

This was crazy. She looked at Gawain, he was pale and drawn; he looked nothing like a knight in shining armor.

"Kirra, please, sit down and stop yelling," Kirra remained standing and, sighing softly, Niara continued. "What do you remember before you were adopted?"

"Nothing," The girl snapped, "There is nothing to remember. The nuns said I was sick before and it must have affected my memory. I simply woke up one day and found myself in the orphanage." For some time Kirra had tried to remember the family she must have had, but to no avail. She had stopped trying at about the same time she had met Niara.

"Yes dear, you had been sick, very sick. The mortal body is so weak that we knew you would die, without some interference from us. So, I was appointed to take you away from your home and deliver you to the orphanage where you could receive more modern care."

"_You_ took me from my family." Kirra sank into her chair, her voice incredulous, "Did they know? Or did you kidnap me too."

Niara looked very unaffected by the emotion in Kirra's voice, "No, they didn't know. They actually thought that in the grips of fever you wandered away and died."

"But, why would you _do_ that?" Kirra's voice cracked and Gawain looked away from her.

Even if Niara couldn't feel the pain in Kirra, he could and he understood what it was to be taken from family. But he couldn't comprehend what it would have felt like to know that one of the people that you trusted and loved most was responsible for such a deed.

"Wouldn't I have been better off with them?"

The Fate was patient, "No dear, you would have died with them and it wasn't your time. You were born for a very important reason and purpose. The goddess decreed it and we followed through with the plan as best we could. I stayed close to watch over you and train you up when you reached the right age."

Kirra looked like she was going to explode, "You are crazy if you expect me to believe that. I don't even know what you are talking about … the goddess. What is all that? What purpose would be so great that you would take a child away from her family, just to accomplish it?"

Niara sighed, this wasn't going as planned. Even as young as she was, Kirra was too strong-willed. She supposed it was from being raised as a modern woman, "It is to bring you back to your family. You and one other are the last remnants of your family capable of conceiving children."

Gawain raised his head and looked over at Niara. Then that meant …

Niara saw the light of comprehension in his eyes and nodded, "You know of whom I speak of don't you?" The knight nodded weakly.

Kirra, in a fit of temper, threw her mug to the ground, shattering it on the garden stones, "What are you talking about? Who does _he_ know that I do not? What is really going on?"

"Dear, you have to go back to save the last of your family. The gifts of your family must not die. Not only that, you will be helping to shape the future of a country. The stories you know may be legend, but legend always comes from a spot of truth. There are people who need you more then those here."

"What of him," Kirra asked, gesturing to Gawain. "Why is he here? If your goddess is powerful enough to arrange all of this, why is he here? Why can't she just wave her magic wand and make everything all better?"

"He was sent to help you get back."

Gawain looked up, curious, as the Fate continued, "There are some things that even the goddess can not do. There are certain things that she needs the help of mortals to accomplish."

"That's comforting; expecting us, _mere_ mortals, to put ourselves in her not-quite-all-powerful hands while she runs our lives."

"Yes."

Kirra swore savagely causing Gawain to grin. She saw it and rounded on him, "It is not funny." He stopped grinning. "Here you are. Do you even know where _here_ is? Do you know even what type of world you are in now? You know nothing and I am supposed to use you to get back. And to what? A world where there is no running water and a scratch can kill you. Wonderful. "

"Kirra," Niara's voice cut like a knife and put an end to Kirra's outburst. "Stop that. Gawain knows more then you think."

Her comment caused the knight to glance up in doubt. He was a warrior; he fought other's battles, he wasn't equipped to handle things like this. The Fate ignored him and pressed forward, "One is not to _use_ the other to return. You have to work in conjunction to find the key."

Kirra sat down in her chair, no longer feeling much of anything. In a few brief moments her world had become some sort of fractured fairy tale. She turned to Niara her voice suddenly quiet, "If he knows the last remaining member of my family, then when was I born?"

"Actually, you were born seven years after Gawain. That would be somewhere around the year 447."

Kirra's head dropped to her hands, "Wonderful."

Gawain took the lull in conversation to ask, "You said we could get back, how?"

"The two of you must find the key. Together."

"Oh, that helps," Kirra commented scathingly though her hands.

Gawain shot her a look -- one she missed -- that told her to be quiet and continued, "What is the key and where can we find it?"

Niara sighed, "I can only tell you that you must look inside yourselves to find it. It is the key to this whole undertaking. It is the key to save the world." She stood abruptly, "Now, you must forgive me, but I have to leave you and go on a little trip."

Kirra looked up from her hands, "You have to _leave_? You drop all of this on our laps and then you _leave_?"

"Yes."

"Okay, provided that I actually believe all of this -- which I don't -- what am I supposed to do with him?" Kirra asked, gesturing at the knight in question. Gawain glowered at her.

Niara was matter of fact, "You and he have quite a bit of work to do. I would suggest that you get to know each other and learn to like it."

"Okay. Well, let's just call up the historians and see if any of the legends say anything about a key. I am sure that they would have no problem believing this story and would simply give us all the information that we need." Sarcasm dripped from Kirra's every word.

Niara's reply was sharp, "No Kirra. You must tell no one who he is."

"Niara, do you actually think that anyone would believe me?"

"You might be surprised."

"Yeah, that would be the day that Hell froze over and pigs flew, right?"

Gawain blinked at her cursing. He was unaccustomed to such language coming from a woman, especially by one with such a young and innocent countenance.

"I mean it Kirra. No one is to know and you are not to take him into town." Niara was adamant.

Kirra narrowed her eyes in contemplation, _going into town, now that could be fun._

But she didn't believe a word of any of this. She looked at Gawain -- if that was even his name, and wondered what Niara had to do to get him to go along with this whole thing. Kirra noted for a second time that he really didn't exactly fit her idea of a knight in shining armor.

"You said that he came here to take me back. What will my parents think when they come home from their vacation to find that I am gone and they can't find me?"

Niara looked down; this would be the hardest part. She never thought that she could have ever grown to love the girl as much as she had. She didn't want to hurt her further. "Your parents will not remember you when they return."

Kirra's face paled and she fell back against the chair, "They will forget about me?" she said in a soft, horrified voice.

Niara shook her head sadly, 'No dear, it will be more as if you never existed."

Gawain winced. That wasn't much better.

Kirra stood, blinking back burning tears, "I am leaving. Have the officials call me when you've both safely arrived at the nut house."

With that Kirra turned on her heel and fled out the back gate. Niara sighed and looked at Gawain. He didn't look like he believed her much more then Kirra had and he didn't look like he much liked her either, but was too shocked to do anything about it.

----------------------------

Kirra dashed her tears away and entered the shed. Fate was ignored when she whickered a greeting to her mistress. Kirra didn't worry over the saddle, just dragged the horse's bridle over her head and patted the mare, "Let's go home, girl."

Leading Fate outside, she whistled for Finn and pulled herself onto the mare's back. With any luck they would be home within twenty minutes and all this would be behind her.

Finn surprised her and came at her first call. Kirra mounted and nudged Fate forward into a trot -- which was stopped short when the mare suddenly halted in front of Niara's house.

"Don't do this to me, Fate," She whispered desperately to the mare, which refused to take one more step.

Niara was standing in the yard and walked over to the mare, laying a hand on her mane, "Good girl."

She looked up at Kirra, "I realize that you are angry with me, I understand that and expected nothing less, but the fact of the matter is, that without you Gawain can never return home. Those that know him and love him will never know what became of him and he will be stuck here."

"Great, you get me coming and going don't you. You forget Niara, I don't even believe you. I don't know who that man is, but as of now, I'm gone. So, kindly remove your hand and get out of the way, or I will have Fate trample you," Kirra was not playing; at that moment she wanted to inflict as much pain as she felt.

Niara stepped back, but not from fear or dread. Kirra couldn't do anything to hurt her. "You will be back. In your heart, you know that I am telling the truth and you will be back. Don't make it too long. Everyday that Gawain is away is harder on those that miss him."

Kirra looked to the porch; Gawain had limped back through the house and was now watching her converse with Niara. There was a look of hollow shock in his blue eyes and Kirra knew Niara's words to be true, but she wasn't ready for them yet. She pulled Fate's head around and galloped toward home, Finn followed closely.


	6. Chapter 6

**#6 Alone**

Gawain watched as the old woman came wearily towards him. He had heard her words to Kirra and it had filled him with fear. He didn't like the feeling. His whole life depended on the whim of some temperamental, half-grown woman-child and the old woman had just let her ride off. But he also felt sorrow for the girl.

Her life would be even more disrupted then his. At least he would go back to all he knew. She on the other hand, would be returning to a land she didn't know, with a man she didn't know, to a brother she obviously didn't know, with the thought that the people who raised her and were supposed to love her more then anything in the world would never know she had ever existed. It was a blow he was certain one could never truly recover from.

He did note -- to his extreme disgust in himself -- that Kirra looked very good sitting on the back of her horse. She was confident and moved as one with the animal. It was very easy to see her heritage when she was mounted, though he doubted there was a Sarmatian woman as small as she anywhere in the world.

He eyed Niara warily as she passed him and said, "Come let's get you cleaned up a bit. Kirra will be back before the day is through."

Gawain didn't ask how she knew Kirra would be back, truth be known, he didn't want to know how the old woman knew. He didn't want to be here and he would have given his right arm to be with Kirra on that horse going anywhere, but here. He watched the black mare's fleeing figure awhile longer before rubbing his jaw and having no other choice followed the Fate into the house.

Niara led him to the back of the house to a small room. It was unlike any he'd ever seen before, but some things in it were similar other things he was used to. What looked like a large, white bathing tub sat in the back and there was a funny little white seat in another corner and alongside it a basin. He glanced at Niara who been digging in a cupboard. She pulled out a fold of fluffy cloth and turned to him.

"Let's see how your bandages are holding up." She reached to flip up a corner of his shirt, but he stepped away, uncomfortable with the old woman, Fate, whatever she was.

He folded his arms and primly said, "No."

She chuckled at his tone and said, "Suit yourself." She was in no mood for an argument, "Keep the bandages on, they will keep your stitches from getting wet." And she quickly told him how the knobs over, what did turn out to be a tub, worked.

He had a hard time not showing his delight when she showed him that one released hot water and the other cold. She told him to play with them until he found the temperature that he liked. Then she surprised him even more when she pulled a small knob and water rained from the ceiling, she pushed it back down and the 'shower' stopped. It was amazing. He realized that this must have been what Kirra was talking about when she told him he needed a shower.

"Gawain, are you paying attention to me?" Niara's question brought him out of his thoughts.

"No," He answered honestly and made more of an effort.

"Well, as I was saying here is soap for your body and for your hair," She motioned to a little cake of some solid white substance and then opened a funny looking bottle. The familiar fragrance of jasmine wafted toward him. It was the same scent that he had smelled on Kirra and, now that his head was clearer, it was the same light floral scent he had smelled when Kirra had brushed his forehead that first night.

"That smells like … a woman," He said, stopping himself before he blushed.

"That bothers you?" There was something in Niara's question that made him uncomfortable as if she knew what he was thinking.

"No."

She raised a white eyebrow, "Good, well have fun and take all the time you want. Oh, and if you need to relieve yourself, you may do so here." Niara demonstrated how the 'toilet' worked. She left, chuckling again at his amazed face and ready for a strong cup of tea. It would be a long while before she saw him again.

Gawain took his time, relishing the hot water as it pounded his sore muscles. He groaned slightly and leaned on the wall shifting his weight to his good leg, his bad leg ached, his shoulder ached, and his side ached, although he was feeling much better having boiled many of the aches away.

Anxiety knotted his stomach at the thought that somewhere his fellows were looking for him and not finding him. Gareth would most likely not be taking his absence well. What would the others say and if he was to return with the woman, what would they do? Gawain stuck his face into the falling water, what would _Tristan _do?

Letting the soap and water wash away any residual dirt and blood and breathing slowly he tried to relax. What would happen when he returned would happen, he couldn't change that. Right now he just had to find a way to get back home. Hoping against hope that the Fate was right and Kirra would return to help him, he turned off the water as the Niara had shown him.

It was much easier to think of her as only an old woman. The thought of her as the tall, powerful, ageless woman caused Gawain to shudder. Having been taken from home at such a young age, he had mostly forgotten the old ways. Besides what had the goddess or her Fates ever done for him? If they were so real then how could they have allowed he and Gareth to have been taken from their home? Or Kirra, for that matter. Gawain frowned in the steamy room, now they wanted more of him?

He dried off slowly and carefully, painfully aware of each little nick and bruise. Niara must've returned sometime while he was in the 'shower' because a fresh set of the strange clothing were folded and waiting for him. Sighing in frustration he thought, _I want my own clothes_, but pulled the new ones on anyway and left the room, shivering slightly in the cooler air of the hallway.

Where did he go now? Niara was nowhere to be seen and he thought, panicking a little, what if she had left already? He quickly strode into the main room of the house, the one that he had first been in and was surprised to see Kirra sitting on the couch and staring vacantly at the wall.

"May I join you?"

She startled at his voice and looked around, "If you want. Your hair is wet."

"I _was_ wondering what that was dripping down my back. Looks like you've solved that mystery," He gingerly sat down and leaned back against the couch.

Her glassy eyes sharpened, "Ha-ha."

"That's all I get?"

"Ha-ha-ha."

"You don't like me much, do you?"

Wearily she said, "It's not that exactly." Turning to him she said, "Come on, what has Niara given you to go along with this whole hokey scheme?"

_Hokey?_

"Whatever it is, it is not sufficient enough to put up with you."

That got her attention, "So, this is a huge lie?" she asked, her eyes sparking.

Gawain rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed heavily, "No, I understand no more then you." He looked around, "Where is the old woman anyway?"

"Hopefully far, far from here."

"That is what you truly want?" He asked softly. "When it seems she is really the only one here who knows what is truly happening to us?"

"Yes," Kirra's tone was fierce.

He looked over at the dark-haired girl and was surprised to see that she really meant it.

Her shoulders were rigid, her arms were folded tightly across her chest, and she was glaring at him.

"There is no need to glare daggers. I desire to be here as much as you want me here." He said as he rested his head on the back of the couch.

She softened, "Sorry, it's just easier to be mad at you then even remotely consider the truth."

Gawain thought about that then asked, "What do we do now? I've no idea what she meant by 'key'."

"Me either, but she said it was inside of us." Kirra looked at him, "You been eating any keys lately?"

Gawain narrowed his eyes and rolled his head to look at her, "Oh yes, they are my favorite, right after that slop you made me drink last night."

"Two nights ago."

He shrugged and rubbed again at his eyes; he was quickly developing a pounding headache and was beginning to feel tired.

Kirra's instincts spoke almost before she thought, "Did you by chance eat anything this morning?"

"No. I was hungry, but lost my appetite."

"Well, you need to eat. Wait here and I'll be right back," She left the room.

Gawain had dozed off by the time Kirra had returned with a mounded plate of food and some juice. She stood and quietly regarded him for a moment. He looked like he had been put through the wringer and she wondered what kind of life had he led.

She had seen the bruises and old scars and all of the new injuries. What kind of life would you have to live to bear such marks? And so many? If all of this was true … she shook her head violently, not willing to believe, but looked back down at the knight. He seemed so much older then twenty-four. Kirra sighed.

Without opening his eyes Gawain asked, "See anything you like?"

She groaned and sat down, "I was just wondering whether or not to poke you to make sure you were still alive."

"Look that good, eh?"

"Yep, now open up those baby blues and eat something. It has been at least a couple of days since you ate last. Then I want you to go back to bed and take a nap," She gently placed the plate on his lap and sat back sipping on the juice meant for him.

He didn't move for awhile, so Kirra nudged him gently, "I am not going to leave you alone until you eat something."

It was Gawain's turn to groan, "Leave me be, woman. I'll eat when I am good and ready."

Kirra leaned forward and pinched his arm -- his well muscled arm, she noted with an annoyed internal shake of her head. There was no time for thoughts like that and she wasn't sure that she even liked the guy, "Which is now. I don't have all day to sit here and baby-sit a grown man who should be old enough to know that he will never get better without eating something. I spent too much time stitching you up last night --"

"Two nights ago."

"-- whatever, two nights ago, to just let you starve yourself. Now eat." Kirra ordered not missing a beat.

"Fine," He opened his eyes and examined the plate, "What is this?"

"One of my specialties: scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Oh," she held up the glass she had, "and a half glass of orange juice, that will soon be nonexistent if you don't hurry and eat."

"Orange juice?"

She sighed, "Just eat. Are you always this difficult?" She questioned with a quirked eyebrow.

Gawain shrugged and started eating. He was surprised at how hungry he really was and was finished in record time. Kirra was watching him, with a bemused look on her face. She handed him the glass of juice, which he quickly drained.

"Wow, did you even taste anything?"

He was looking into the empty glass, "Just this, may I have more? What kind of juice was it?"

Kirra took the glass and headed to the kitchen, "Orange juice."

Somewhat exasperated Gawain said, "I know the color, but what is the fruit that made it."

In the same tone of voice Kirra called from the next room, "It is made from oranges. That _is_ the fruit." She came back in with a full glass, "Wait until you see a pineapple." She handed it to him.

He drained the glass and echoed the word she had unwittingly said in English, "Pine-apple?"

Kirra grinned, "Yeah, feel better?"

Gawain nodded and handed back the glass, "Yes."

She sat the glass down, "Good, now you are going to go take a nap."

He just nodded again and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

Kirra gave a small snort and grabbed his hand, "Not here. Come on."

He allowed himself to be pulled to standing and then pulled into the room he had woken up in. Kirra pushed him toward the bed and went to close the curtains, shutting out the light. Gawain lay back and pulled the blankets over him. He rolled over burying his face in the soft, clean pillowcase. He could get used to this.

Kirra brushed a cool hand across his cheek and wished him good night. There was a warm tingle and he felt his headache ease slightly at the light touch. Then she left and closed the door quietly.

---------------------

Gawain awoke to a quiet rustling sometime during the night. A single candle was burning on the small side table and Kirra was hidden behind the pages of a book. It was the turning of a page that had woken him. She was seated in the chair at his bedside and had tilted it back using her feet for balance. So intent was she on her reading that she didn't notice that he was awake.

Gawain took advantage of her distraction to examine her. She had on more clothing then earlier, but they were a strange selection for a woman to be wearing. She wore a shirt much like the one he had seen stained with his blood, but this one was a dark blue that accented her pink cheeks and gray eyes and she wore a pair of light blue trousers like a man would wear.

Her dark hair had a strange silvery cast to it even in the candlelight and it hung in loose waves around her face and shoulders. Having her hair down made Kirra look younger then she was -- which was young enough. She was short, but, he remembered with a smirk, most of her height was leg.

Her toes were painted a particularly violent shade of pink and around one toe a small silver ring gleamed in the light of the candle. Having seen nothing the likes of that before, he reached out and gently touched it, which caused Kirra to cry out in surprise and jerk back. Not the brightest thing to do considering her position. She lost her balance and crashed backwards onto the floor. Gawain dragged himself to the side of the bed and looked down on her.

He couldn't help laughing. Kirra lay gasping and red-faced. Her book had been thrown behind her when she had thrown up her arms in attempt to regain her equilibrium and lay upside down next to the wall.

He reached down to help her to her feet. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she said primly, trying to salvage what little dignity she had left. "I like to be touched by a seemingly unconscious man in the middle of the night while I am reading Stephen King. Thank you."

Gawain watched her as she got to her feet and righted her chair then retrieving her book and marking her place with a little scrap of paper. She flopped back in the chair.

"What?"

"You can read?" He asked leaning back against the pillows.

She gave him a disparaging look, "Of course. Can't you?"

"No," He said quietly, diverting his eyes and picking at loose thread on the comforter.

"Oh," Kirra said apologetically. "Sorry. I forgot."

He shrugged, "It is not your fault. My people are nomadic. They move too often to be bothered with parchments or heavy books. Our stories are passed from person to person through songs and stories. And the Romans, well, they would not take the time to teach any of us." He was silent as he thought for a moment, "Though that may not be entirely true. I think maybe Tristan was taught." He glanced at Kirra, "He is our scout." He stopped speaking when he saw Kirra's patronizing smile. "You needn't look at me in that way."

Kirra sighed, "Sorry, I really am. It's just that I am having a hard time believing that you really are Gawain from the stories and when you mention anyone else, I feel like either laughing or hitting you in the head hard enough that you start telling me the truth."

"I do not lie," Gawain stated softly.

The girl wearily pushed her hair from her eyes, "I know and neither does Niara, but this is just so outlandish. I mean _Tristan_ and _Arthur_. You speak so easily and so familiarly about people who are nothing but legend to me. We learn the tales of King Arthur and his Knights as children in pre-school. Little boys dress up like them for Halloween. Little girls _pretend_ they are princesses to be rescued by knights in shining armor."

Gawain's mind whirled. _King_ Arthur? _Halloween_? _Children in school_? He had not the faintest idea of what Kirra was speaking about. But at the mention of tales he did.

He smiled engagingly at Kirra, "What do they say about me?"

She didn't miss a beat, "That you married a nasty, ugly, old woman, and _liked_ her."

Gawain's lip curled in disgust, "That is what I am remembered for? Marrying an ugly, old woman?"

"Yep, that and that you could only fight well until mid-day and then you were as weak as a kitten."

Kirra was enjoying this. With each word Gawain's blue eyes were getting darker and stormier. She found that he had rather nice eyes and that she liked annoying him so that she could watch them deepen and change hue.

'I am going to have to do something about that," He vowed quietly.

Kirra grinned, "Well, with only being able to fight for half a day, you had better make it something big."

Stormy blue met sparkling gray and brightened instantly at the teasing observed there. "You are a wench, you know that?"

"Wench?" Kirra raised her eyebrows and thought for a second, then grinned, "I guess I am."

Gawain chuckled at her easy acceptance, "That is not necessarily a good thing." He said.

"Maybe, but you called me it, so I am thinking it is not necessarily a bad thing either. Because if it were then I would have to do this," And without any regard to his healing wounds, Kirra snatched the pillow from behind his head and smacked him with it. Hard.

"Whoa, girl. Take it easy," Gawain said blinking in surprise. "You are taking advantage of a wounded man."

Kirra laughed easily and handed him the pillow, "You didn't look too wounded when you came barreling out of the house this morning to rescue me."

"I was trying to be polite and you mock me." He looked so disheartened that Kirra immediately regretted having teased him. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh."

He looked up at her, eyes glittering, "Oh, I think you did and so am forced to defend my honor." And he hit her with the pillow she had just given back to him. It was so unexpected that it knocked her off the bed and back onto the floor.

She resurfaced giggling and sat a safe distance away in the chair. "Well, good to know that you are feeling better." She glanced at a wide leather band on her left wrist, "Man, it's late. I had better go to my room and let you sleep. Anything you need?"

He examined Kirra from the corner of his eye. She was flushed from laughter and soft looking in the dim light of the candle and Gawain thought her innocent question quite loaded, but kept his 'needs' to himself. He shook his head.

He was starting to feel tired again, though his body felt like he had only put it through a rough training session instead of a battle in which he had been severely wounded, it would seem that he needed more rest then he first thought. And it wasn't so bad, especially when there was such a lively and lovely young woman to nurse him back to health.

Kirra rose and took up the candle, "Well, I am just down the hall if you change your mind. Have a good sleep."

"And you," He said rolling to his side and noting that his pillow smelled faintly of jasmine before sleep claimed him.


	7. Chapter 7

**#7 Change of Scenery**

Kirra was standing at the window peering out into another stormy day, when Gawain came out of his room the next morning. He watched her for a moment as she watched the rain. She looked far away in thought. She wore a hat of some sort on her head with her hair in a thick braid hanging out of a hole in the back. It hung wet and had darkened the back of the shirt she wore and her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest as though she was trying to warm herself.

"I rode home this morning and got the car," Her voice was low and distant.

_Car_?

"I figured it would be better then riding through all this wet," She explained without turning. "We've had unusual storms this spring." When she did turn to face Gawain, her eyes were still far away and it took a moment for them to focus on the knight. There were dark circles under them as well, "Breakfast is ready too," She said finally, moving in the direction of the kitchen.

It turned out that she had made oaten porridge for the morning meal. She spooned it into two bowls then set them on the table and bustled about as Gawain sat. She retrieved a small clear bag full of something the color and texture of wet sand and something in a small clear bottle.

Gawain examined the clear bag as Kirra poured … milk … and sat down. She took the bag from him and dumped a liberal amount on her oats along with a bit of what ever was in the bottle; it had a pleasant, if unfamiliar scent, and a chunk of butter. She vigorously stirred the whole concoction with her spoon and tentatively tasted it. Deciding that it was fine, Kirra took a big bite and looked at Gawain with her head cocked when he did not move. She chewed then swallowed.

"This," she said, tapping the clear bag with the back of her spoon, "is brown sugar and this," she did the same to the small bottle, "is cinnamon. It's the only way to eat oatmeal. Here," she said, shoving her bowl forward, when the knight had still made no attempt to move, "Try it, if you don't like it, there is definitely something wrong with you."

Remembering the tea, Gawain took a small bite. Kirra rolled her eyes, "Taste anything? I am not sure I even saw anything on your spoon." Lack of sleep and a ride through the rain had left her feeling cranky.

Exasperated Gawain took a larger bite and was surprised at how good it was, "This is, what again?" He asked as he followed Kirra's lead with the items on the table.

"Sugar," She answered shortly. "You probably only have honey, huh?" Then to herself, "I wonder when sugar was first widely distributed."

He ignored her comment, "Yes, we have honey, but I have never heard of _sugar, _or this." He replied sprinkling some of the contents of the bottle on his _oatmeal_.

"What do you normally have for breakfast?" Kirra said around another bite. She was nearly finished with her meal.

"Bread, cheese, meat, fruit, ale," Gawain said not looking up as he stirred the mixture he had made.

"Ale? In the morning?" She asked incredulously. Then her eyes narrowed suspiciously, "Are you a lush?"

He looked up, perplexed, "I do not know that word. You do not drink, I understand."

"No, too young," Kirra said brightly. Now that she had a little sugar in her, her mood was picking up. "Sorry, all you'll get with me is the normal fare, well," -- she grinned mischievously -- "normal for me."

Gawain shrugged unconcernedly, "As long as I get something to fill my belly, it does not matter."

Kirra snorted, "From the way you curled you lip at my breakfast, right." She finished and rose to wash out her bowl and place a couple of slices of bread in a small white box and turned to check the water in a small pot and poured it into a waiting mug. She turned and leaned back against the counter, "I am making some tea, want any?"

Gawain gave his head a desperate little shake.

Kirra laughed, "Okay, how about coffee?"

At his blank expression, Kirra fished out another mug and found Niara's hidden stash. The old woman had loved coffee. She filled the small coffeepot and spooned in the grounds, "I'm not a coffee drinker, but Niara loves it, so maybe you'll like it, too."

It started dripping immediately and soon the kitchen was filled with an intriguing aroma. The bread popped out of the white box, causing Gawain to startle a bit and Kirra to laugh again. She pulled out the toasted bread and slathered on thick layer of butter and jam on one piece. The other she dropped in front of Gawain and sat down again with her bread and mug of tea, to which she added a healthy dose of honey.

"Okay, today I thought we would leave Niara's and go to my parent's house. Just don't answer the door and we will be fine. If my uncle visits unexpectedly, which he is likely to do -- hide." She explained as she sipped her tea. "I am _not_ about to try and explain you to him."

Gawain, who had just found the joy of strawberry jam, was only half listening. He was brought back to reality by Kirra's silence and the amused expression in her grey eyes.

"I really hope you're not allergic to anything. That's all I need, you going into anaphylactic shock."

"Ana-falactic shock?" he echoed the unfamiliar word.

Kirra laughed again, "Yeah, you feel like you can't breathe, let me know."

"I will keep that in mind as I am smothering," Gawain said dryly, causing Kirra to laugh again. It was well worth the sarcasm to hear that husky little laugh. "So why would you not want to explain me to your uncle?"

Kirra got up at the sputtering of the coffee pot so Gawain would not see the grimace on her face at the mention of her domineering uncle, James. "He wants to force me to stay here forever and husband the land, yet he is unwilling to force any of his own children into it. Needless to say, we do _not_ get a along." She poured a cup of the hot black drink and sat it in front of the knight and took her seat again. "He thinks my parents spoil me and let me walk all over them and he never fails to let me know it. I think he is a total ass and I am sure my less then sweet attitude never lets him forget it."

"You do not want to stay home?" Gawain asked, sipping the hot liquid and finding he liked it and a moment later the resulting caffeine buzz.

"Not that that matters now, but it isn't that I don't _want _to, it's the fact that he wants to force me, without caring one iota for what I want." In her sincerity, Kirra leaned across the table, "See, it's all about leaving the decision up to me."

She couldn't sit still and rose to take Gawain's dishes and wash them along with the remainder of her dirty ones. Her gait and efficient movements were strangely familiar and Gawain found himself watching her curiously, even her habit of being unable to relax for long was reminiscent of her brother.

"Just make yourself scarce when he comes to visit or he will have my parents home in the blink of an eye and they have been planning this vacation for years. They need it," She turned wiping her hands dry on a small towel. "When you are finished we will leave. I'll go get your things, let me know when you are ready." With that Kirra turned and left the kitchen.

Gawain sat longer then was probably necessary trying to figure the whole situation out. Try as he might the answers would not come; it was all just too outlandish, his coming to a time and land far from his own and Tristan's sister finding him. Kirra's being born only a few years after he, yet having grown up here, and then there was the question of a key.

What key?

How could such a simple object restore that which had been turned upside-down? He rubbed his head in border-line despair and looked up to see Kirra standing in the doorway staring at him; her whole demeanor, quiet and unreadable, her eyes dark and piercing, peering into his very being. It was a bit unsettling.

"Let's get out of here. It's too depressing and I can't stand it," She said and Gawain rose and emptied his cup into the sink and let her lead the way out.

At the front door Kirra glanced over at him, "Ready for a run?"

The rain was still pouring in sheets, not violently, just enough to fully drench everything in a short amount of time. Gawain wrinkled his nose as Kirra pulled open the door. It was dry on the porch, but just beyond it was a shifting world of grey and an odd hulking thing sitting motionless, rain pouring off its shiny, red exterior. He looked over at Kirra with wide eyes.

She sighed, "He's my baby. I'll get the door for you." She pointed a little black amulet at the red thing, which as far as Gawain was concerned was neither a baby or alive, the thing gave a strange noise and lights flickered at its front.

"What is _that_?"

"It's my car," Kirra answered matter of fact. "Ready?" and she leapt off the porch and sprinted out into the driving rain without waiting for Gawain's answer and pulled a door open before darting to the other side and out of view. Another moment later her head appeared inside the _car_, "Come on, let's go!" Gawain heard her shout over the din. Taking a deep breath and saying a silent prayer to the gods he followed suit and joined her.

"Pull the door shut or you'll fall out," She ordered. "And fasten your seatbelt, like this." She demonstrated and grinned at Gawain's reticence. Her grin grew when she put a small silver key in a wheel sitting in front of her. Loud music blared for a moment before she turned it down and turned to face Gawain, eyes sparkling with delight, "You're kind of a thrill seeker, aren't you? I mean, I would assume that in your line of work it's a requirement, but the fastest you've ever gone is as fast as a horse gallops right?"

"Yes," Gawain said hesitantly. He definitely did not like or trust the evil smile which painted Kirra's face at the moment. It was too much reminiscent of the expressions Gareth and Galahad had worn as children when they had done something that someone, usually him, was unlikely to appreciate.

"Well, you might hold on, this goes a wee bit faster." She pulled a little black stick towards her and suddenly the car rocketed forward. Gawain slammed back in his seat; Kirra glanced over at his loss of color and gasp of surprise. "If you feel sick, please close your eyes." She implored, adding, "and, it would be a heck of a lot funnier if I was going faster then just twenty-five miles an hour. I promise you won't die, you _can_ let go of the door handle before you break it off."

Gawain looked down to notice that his knuckles were white with the force of his grip as he held onto the side of the door.

Once he had gotten used to the speed and feel of the movement of the car, Gawain found himself enjoying it immensely and he was slightly disappointed when Kirra pulled it into a room attached to the largest home Gawain had seen.

"You live here?" He asked incredulously. The room in which the car sat was as big as a stable that could comfortably house at least six horses _and_ their tack.

"Well, not in the garage, but yeah, this is home. Come on in and I'll show you your room," Kirra replied reaching into the seat behind her for a small bag. Before exiting the car, she pushed a button and the door to the garage came down from the ceiling. The gray dog from the other day was there to greet them, a wiggly puppy greeting for Kirra and a more reserved brush of the tail for Gawain.

"This is Finn," Kirra said, slapping the dog -- which was even bigger close up, on the side as it leaned into her. "His size is bigger then his bite," She led the way inside and disappeared.

Inside the actually home, Gawain stood and stared for several long moments. It was full of open rooms that looked in on each other and were comfortably dressed with furniture in earthy tones and dark woods. It was warm and dry and very solid.

"Are you coming?" Kirra's voice floated from somewhere.

Taking one last look around to orient himself with this part of the house, Gawain called, "Yes, but where …"

Kirra's head popped out from around a corner, "Up here."

It appeared there were more floors then just the one Gawain was standing in. He followed her up stopping once to examine several … paintings that hung on the wall leading up the staircase.

There was one of a man and a woman, him in dark clothes and her in a long white gown, gazing with rapture into each other's eyes. Another was of a young Kirra; perhaps around age six, her face was still chubby with childhood. She sat on a fence and was waving at the artist. The last was also of Kirra, but as she looked now. It was the only one in somber shades of grey and white, her head turned as if she were watching something very far away that made her quiet and pensive. It was the same expression she had been wearing when Gawain first saw her that morning staring out of the window at a wet world.

"Those are photos," She said coming to stand on the stair above Gawain – she was still shorter then he. Finn watched awhile from the lower floor before deciding that a nap would be far more favorable then the actions of the two humans and left to lounge in his favorite spot. "These are my parents on the day they were married, me a couple of years after coming here, and this," she pointed to the third, "my mom snapped when I wasn't paying attention. She says it captures the true essence of who I am."

"And you do not believe your mother?" Gawain asked at the indecision he heard in Kirra's voice.

She shook her head and pursed her lips, "I hardly think I'm _that_ serious. You know mothers; they see things in us we don't see in ourselves. Come on, your room is up here." She turned and continued up and disappeared into a room to the right at the top of the stairs. Gawain followed her, his mind still on the third picture.

The room he was to be staying in was far bigger then his own back at the Wall and far more comfortable and welcoming. The wood that made the matching furniture was a dark brown which accented the dark gold of the walls. The coverlet on the wide bed was boldly striped with the same gold and several shades of blue. A large metal image of the sun hung opposite the bed, smiling cheerfully to wake whoever slept there.

"This is the _Day Room_," Kirra supplied. "Silly, I know. But when mom and I redecorated, we thought it would be fun if each room had a theme and a name." She grinned sheepishly.

"It is a very nice room. You and your mother did well," Gawain said and Kirra's smile widened a little and her cheeks reddened in pleasure as she put the little bag she had carried in on the bed.

"Mine is across the hall, it's the _Night Room_. And my parent's is at the end of the hall. Mom calls it the _Garden Suite_. You should have seen the look on my dad's face when he first saw it. It positively oozes roses and femininity. My mom's a hopeless romantic, my dad … not so much."

She moved and opened a door to the east of the bed, "This is your bathroom. And that," -- she pointed to another door on the western wall -- "opens to your closet, though you don't have anything to put in it." She grinned again as she had done in the car, "We'll have to get you a few things. You are quite a bit bigger then my dad, so his clothes won't fit." But when she crossed the room and opened the closet her jaw dropped, "What's this?" Gawain moved to look over her head.

In what should have been an empty space, there now hung shirts and pants and on the floor were several different pairs of shoes. All of which, Kirra had no doubt, would be Gawain's size. She slid around Gawain and pulled open one of the dresser drawers and started laughing.

"Niara knows me far too well. Looks like I won't get to have any fun taking you to town." She closed the drawer and turned to Gawain who was still examining the contents of the closet, "You have plenty of socks and underwear in here. And I am sure that anything you might need will be in the bathroom." She grew quiet and suddenly darted from the room, Gawain followed.

Kirra threw open the door to her room then yanked open the door to her closet and peered inside, "Drat." She muttered and closed the door. She shrugged helplessly when she saw Gawain's quizzical expression, "Hey, you got new stuff."

He chuckled, "I take it Niara left you without anything but me for your efforts."

Kirra threw herself into a chair, "Looks that way." Then she noticed just where Gawain was and stood up warily, "You're not supposed to be in here, by the way. House rules: no boys in my room. Sorry."

"Boy?" Gawain questioned with a smirk and planted his feet.

Kirra shoved at him ineffectively, "Boy, man, whatever. You understand, now move it. Ugh." She grunted with effort and still the knight did not budge. "Come on."

Gawain slipped to one side and Kirra nearly fell to the floor, "But you have such a nice room. I think I like it even more then the one you put me in."

He was so enjoying Kirra's near frantic movements that he didn't catch the sudden darkening of her eyes. All of the sudden Kirra lashed out and hit him in the shoulder. Hard. He gasped with sudden pain; she had hit him right where the arrow had been. And while he was still stunned at her outburst, Kirra took the opportunity to push him out of the room and firmly shut the door behind her.

"I told you to get out," She said with her arms folded over her chest. "I still don't know you and though Niara might trust you, I don't -- not in my room."

"I think you burst the stitches," Gawain said in disbelief. He could see his shirt darkening in a spreading stain.

Kirra turned white and her hand went to her mouth, "I'm sorry." She stuttered as she took a step toward him and Gawain took a step back in retreat. "No, really. Let me see. I can fix --"

He scowled at her, angry, but not really. She _had_ told him to get out and it _was_ her room. "I think you have done enough," He said quietly, still a bit shocked. "I'll take care of it." He turned to find his bathroom leaving Kirra standing in the hall.

Her eyes narrowed and her pale cheeks flamed red, this time with anger and embarrassment, "Fine, be a stubborn ass." She snapped and turned to enter her room once again, this time slamming the door with a deafening crack.

Gawain chuckled at her outburst after he had taken his bloody shirt off and examined the damage Kirra had done. It was minor; two stitches had torn through the skin rather then bursting as he had thought, but it stung and was throbbing, the pulsing could be seen flashing white against his mottled red skin. It would be even more bruised, but with a little water and a few of those sticky bandages would heal along with the rest. But he certainly knew now the extent of her temper.

Kirra may be smaller then the Sarmatian women Gawain had grown up knowing, but that didn't stop her acting as big as they. It had been a rather dirty shot, but when one was cornered, as Kirra had been, and unsure of a situation, it was better to fight dirty then live the consequences of doing nothing. Shaking his head in exasperation, he decided her would apologize later after she had some time to relax surrounded by her own things.

Turned out Kirra didn't need as long to cool off as Gawain would have thought and soon there was a quiet knock at his open door. He was still the bathroom having become rather distracted by looking through the drawers for more bandages and having found them full of everything he might need and several things he wouldn't and had no idea as to just what they were used for. He stuck his head around the corner to find Kirra waiting just outside his open door.

"Do you know what all this is?" He asked before moving back to the drawers.

She took that as an invitation and entered the room carrying a small white box. "Yeah, it's -- you're still bleeding." Her voice grew a little louder at the pronouncement and she pushed Gawain back to sit on the toilet ignoring the fact that he was only half dressed.

He looked down to find that a thin trickle of blood had made its way down his chest but was drying. "Rather forgot about that. I was looking for another of those bandages and became distracted. You live in an amazing world Kirra. So much comfort."

Kirra was quiet for a moment as she remembered what it had been like when she had first come here, how new and exciting everything had been, and decided he was right. She did live an incredibly sheltered and comfortable life. "I guess you're right. I don't think about it anymore." She wet the bloody towel he had been using earlier and began to gently wipe the blood away. "Look," she said, not meeting Gawain's eyes, "I am sorry about hitting you. It just sort of happened. I didn't really mean it."

She opened the little white box as Gawain eyed her speculatively, "No, I am pretty sure you did."

Kirra's eyes flicked up then back down to the bottle she was struggling to open. Gawain took it from her easily opened it and handed it back. She poured a little of the liquid it held on a white puffball, "It's just you're a lot bigger and stronger then any one else I have ever met and for a moment it was a little much to have you standing so close in my room." Her cheeks and the tips of her ears were pink again and Gawain stifled a chuckle. "This may sting a little," she said, gently swabbing the newly opened cut with the puffball. Gawain gasped again, but not so much because of the sting.

The girl had leaned in close and blown on it to reduce the sharp bite of the liquid and it was more the combination of the cool liquid and her warm breath on his chest that did it. Gods, she smelled good.

Kirra looked up sharply, concern lightening her eyes considerably and thankfully completely oblivious to the true cause of the sudden intake of breath, "I'm sorry."

Gawain shook his head, hoping that nothing showed in his eyes, and in a reasonably even voice said, "It's not as bad as that first swill you poured on it."

Kirra grinned, "That does hurt pretty bad, doesn't it?" She dug through the box and tore open a large square bandage like the others. "There," she said pressing the bandage firmly into place. "That should do it. Put your shirt on, you have goose bumps." And she turned, oblivious, to tidy up as Gawain obeyed her order.

Once the room was as clean as it had been before she had started, Kirra turned, "It's early yet and you are starting to get pale, why don't you grab a quick nap and I'll wake you later for lunch."

Gawain stood stretching a bit to test his soreness. He was still a bit stiff and sleep did sound rather inviting, "That sounds perfect."

He followed Kirra from the bathroom and watched as she closed the blinds and pulled down the sheets on the bed. She glanced once more around the room before leaving.

"There, have a good rest and I'll be downstairs." She shut the door quietly, leaving Gawain to slip under the cool sheets and marvel a moment at their softness before giving himself up to the dark.


	8. Chapter 8

**Well all my lovelies, those of you who are new and those of you who are still hanging on. Tonight you get a two-fer. They are shorter chapters then normal, so I thought that only fair. Read and review, but above all enjoy!!!**

**#8 Knights**

When Gawain woke, he noticed that it was much later then when Kirra said she would wake him and pulling up the window coverings the deepening dusk proved it. He stretched feeling slightly guilty at the pleasure that sleeping all he wanted when not really that injured caused.

Never in his life had he been able to do that. Always before when he had been injured there was pain to interrupt sleep and just when that started to recede he had been expected to carry on with his duties. Here in this place, he found it wonderful to have the time to gain back his full strength.

Listening to his stomach rumble -- it had been a rather long time since the morning meal, Gawain decided to get up and see what Kirra had in mind for supper. He splashed water over his face, wincing slightly as he passed a towel over it. For all Kirra's miracles, his body was still protesting the damage it had taken. Bruises mottled his face.

He limped downstairs and following a bit of noise, found Kirra curled up on a couch in a room he had not seen. She was watching a strange flickering box in which a small half-dressed young woman paraded herself singing slightly off-key. Finn was sprawled beside her, his shaggy head taking up her entire lap and Kirra spoke to him in a strange language as she stroked his ears. Gawain could almost hear the dog purring in pleasure.

"What is that?" Gawain asked suddenly causing Kirra to jump.

"Gah!" She shrieked. Finn lifted his head and gave the knight a reproachful glare.

"I'm sorry," Gawain said with a chuckle.

"No problem." She said putting a hand on her chest and glaring at him, "My heart only nearly jumped out of my chest. You can't _do_ that, I wasn't expecting you." She looked back at the flickering box, "This is a TV. Used primarily for entertainment. Have a seat." She said gesturing to another couch.

"Actually," Gawain glanced behind him and towards the kitchen. As interesting as the _TV_ appeared, he had more important things on his mind and he was sure he would have ample time to learn all about the fascinating box.

Kirra smiled, "Oh, right. You are probably starving. You were sleeping so hard, I didn't want to wake you, figured you needed the rest." She paused and glanced at the TV to check the progress of the singing girl, "But I made dinner, hamburger patties and mashed potatoes -- like you know what those are, but it's in the kitchen. Your color's better, sleep well?" Gawain nodded as she moved out from under the dog's head – who gave the knight another reproachful glare -- and headed for the kitchen. "Good, come on."

The room smelled of the promised cooked meat, cheering Gawain a good deal. Kirra pulled a wrapped platter out of a tall sliver box, "Fridge." She answered without turning and before Gawain could ask. "Keeps stuff cold." She added before putting the platter it into another smaller box that hung above yet another that seemed to open in the front. "And the microwave," -- there were a few beeps as she pushed some buttons -- "it heats stuff up."

"So does fire." Gawain said sensibly as he sat down at the table.

Kirra grinned as the microwave sounded again, "But not as fast as this."

She pulled the plate out, stirred something on it, tested the temperature, and set it in front of Gawain, who took a small bite and looked up at her in amazement which Kirra missed because she had turned again to the fridge.

"I can't believe that I am going to go backto the time when _fire _was the big thing. And it's probably cold all the time too, huh?" She came to sit at the table across from Gawain with a large bowl and spoon.

He swallowed his mouthful before answering, "Always. The island is misty and rainy most of the year, some years worse then others."

"Great," She muttered and spooned a mound of the contents of the bowl onto his plate.

"What's that?" He asked eyeing the shiny multi-colored bits.

"Fruit," She answered simply and settled the bowl in front of her, adding. "Eat it, it's good for you."

Gawain raised an eyebrow at the order, "I am not a child."

He was finding it annoying to be spoken to as if her were one and by a girl who was more then several years his junior. Her tone also uncomfortably reminiscent of Tristan's when he knew he was right -- which was most of the time.

Kirra shrugged, "Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all. "You'll like it." And to prove her point she took a bite. After she had swallowed, she looked up at Gawain. "So, tell me about the others."

"Others?" he mumbled around a particularly large mouthful.

Kirra rolled her eyes at his pace, "You know, I'm not going to steal it from you. You can slow down."

"Do you always nag this much, woman?" The knight asked in annoyance.

Kirra thought, "Never had anyone to nag. But yeah, 'the others'. You know, the other knights."

"Ah," He made a point of taking smaller bites and swallowing before beginning to tell her of his fellows. "Arthur is our leader." He ignored her sarcastic look of _really?_, "He is a Roman."

Kirra's eyes narrowed at that bit of information, "How can you follow a leader who is of the people who enslaved your own?" There was a sharp edge to Kirra's question.

"_Our_ own," Gawain reminded her and watched as a small frown creased her brow and her expressive eyes darkened. "We have little choice -- and we respect him. He would not have us do anything that he himself would not do."

"Hmm," She grunted, unconvinced. "What does he look like?"

"A bit taller then I, dark hair and I believe, green eyes -- could be blue." The knight shrugged, he had never really paid attention.

Kirra selected another piece of fruit from the bowl, popped it into her mouth and muttered, "Just like a man, never noticing detail." She met Gawain's eyes with so innocent an expression that he chuckled.

"And the rest?"

"Well, there's Lancelot, Arthur's right hand and close friend." He watched as Kirra grew thoughtful and thought she might ask another question, but when she remained silent, he continued, "He is an unparalleled fighter and uses double swords. He thinks he is quite the charmer."

"Is he?" Kirra asked seriously. There was something going on behind her too dark eyes but Gawain wasn't sure what it could be.

He grinned, "No more then I."

That earned a little groan from his dinner companion.

"Gross."

Gawain laughed. "Lancelot has dark hair and equally dark eyes," He added as an afterthought and tasted the fruit, which was good, sweet and sour all at once. "There is Bors. He is loud and uncouth, a formidable fighter -- and he has ten children. Well, it should ten now. It was close to her time when I left."

Kirra's head snapped up, "_Ten_? _From the_ _same_ _woman_?"

Gawain nodded, "Aye, Vanora. A fiery red-head, that one. We are still not sure what she sees in him." He shook his head. "Anyway, Bors has a shaved head and a fondness for good food."

"So bald and fat and loud, with kids hanging all over him. That's easy enough to remember." Kirra put the bowl on the table and sat back.

"Dag is the oldest of us. He and Bors came from the same tribe and were great friends even as boys. He is a giant of a man, but quiet, unlike Bors. His grandmother was a famous healer and taught him all she knew. He also bears a shaven head."

Kirra said nothing only waited with that same stillness and focus that her brother did when he was being fed information. If she was like Tristan in that regard, Gawain knew that Kirra would have no difficulty remembering who was who.

_Tristan._

The name hung heavily in the knights' thoughts. How to tell the girl about a brother she didn't remember when he himself knew so little about the man. What to reveal to one so innocent and so sheltered about a man who seemed to have little regard for himself or others, who killed without mercy and who enjoyed it?

Kirra waited patiently for Gawain to organize his thoughts.

"Tristan is our scout and is the best I've ever seen at what he does." She met his eyes, as if she understood what he had alluded to. Gawain pushed on, "He is a bit of a mystery and prefers to keep to himself. He has dark hair and, come to think of it, I've very rarely seen his eyes. I believe they are dark, though not as dark as Lancelot's."

He waited for Kirra to question him on what he had been hiding, but she did not and Gawain continued.

"And we've come to the final two. Galahad and Gareth."

"Galahad," Kirra showed a perk of interest at the mention of the young knight that she hadn't with the others.

"He is of the same age as my brother, Gareth, and one is never without the other. Gal is dark and moody, though when he was younger he was full of pranks and laughter. The killing is the hardest on him, I think. He still has hopes and dreams and a remembrance of home."

Gawain grew quiet while pondering the next knight. He felt a stab of loneliness and homesickness he hoped would not make itself known in his voice. "Gareth is a bit smaller then I – which I never let him forget, but we are pretty much the same. He and I are the only fair knights. He has eyes like our mother's, a light brown -- the color of dark honey."

"You miss him." Kirra stated softly. Her eyes were gentle now and full of compassion.

"Yes. He is a cheerful man; very seldom does anything really bother him. We tend to look to him to lift our spirits. He and Galahad balance each other perfectly." Gawain was silent a moment longer, then looked up and gave a strained smile, "And there is me. Now you will know the rest when you meet them."

Then came the question he had been dreading, though he was sure Kirra already knew the answer, "And who is my brother?"

Gawain's answer was hesitant, "Tristan. You resemble him, around the eyes and in your silence and movements. It will not be possible for the others to miss. They will know it instantly. Indeed, I would have known it the moment I first saw you, but for the pain and confusion."

"And probably my sudden lashing out, eh?" Kirra asked with a small frown.

"In that, no. Tristan would have simply …" His voiced trailed off before he could finish the sentence.

"Killed you?" Kirra offered.

Gawain nodded.

Then Kirra surprised him with a laugh, "Well, at least no one will ever pick on me again."

He smiled, "No, I can't imagine that anyone would." He was willing to bet that no one would even look the girl in the eyes when they found out who she was much less say one word against her.

"What do you like to do when you're not off gallivanting around the countryside for Arthur?"

Kirra's question caught him off guard and Gawain had to think awhile before answering, "When we are not on missions, we tend to be at the tavern a lot or, during the quieter stretches, in the training arena preparing."

"Do you play games?" she asked.

Gawain lifted a blonde eyebrow, "Only children play games, Kirra and we haven't been children for a long time."

Kirra frowned. He didn't understand. "Those weren't the games I was talking about. Here adults play games professionally and make a lot of money doing it."

"The only games we play are the killing kind and then I am not sure if they can be considered games."

Kirra's eyes darkened and her voice rose, almost as if she was angry, "Don't you ever think of anything else besides killing?"

Gawain leaned his elbows on the table and his eyes hardened. This conversation was getting more involved then he wanted, "That's what we do. We try not to think about it. In our spare time – if you can call it that – we pursue the things that best help us to forget."

Kirra got up to take his plate. She touched his shoulder gently, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

Gawain nodded and stood taking her hand forcing her to leave the dishes for later. He smiled down at the little girl, willing her mood to lift, "Come, show me how this _TV_ of yours works."

So, Kirra showed Gawain football and later fell asleep curled next to him on the couch. Her soft weight and even breathing was a comfort to the knight as he tried to think of better times and sunnier days.


	9. Chapter 9

**#9 Discomfort**

Kirra had just come in from tending to Fate and Jin and was beginning her morning meditation, when the doorbell sounded. Her eyes snapped open in annoyance more then fear, though that crept in as she pulled herself to her feet and went to answer the door. It was her best friend, Shay Young.

Shay and Kirra had been friends since Kirra's first day of school when some heartless little boy had picked on the new girl for her broken English and strange ways. Shay had come to the rescue, pushed the boy down in Kirra's defense, than made sure he never picked on her again. The two had been fast friends ever since.

"Shay," Kirra breathed eyes as big as saucers, "what are you doing here?"

Shay rolled her thickly outlined eyes and held up her black beach bag, "You said to come over first thing in the morning on Monday. It's Monday morning, so here I am."

Kirra frowned, had only the weekend passed? It seemed like a lifetime since last Friday. She faintly remembered talking to Shay, but now that everything had changed, she wasn't sure just how much she wanted to hang out with her best friend in the whole world, really her only friend. It would just make leaving all the more difficult.

"Are you sure you want to swim today?" she asked.

Shay slipped by her, "Of course, I have been looking forward to this all weekend. You cannot imagine how bad my mom has been," She cut off abruptly and fixed Kirra with a speculative look, "You okay?"

Kirra nodded reluctantly as her mind worked to come up with someway to explain Gawain if he came downstairs – which he was most likely to do at the first scent of breakfast. "Yeah, but I am not so sure if this is a good day. Isn't it supposed to storm?"

Shay tossed her bag on the couch, "Nah, it's supposed to be sunny today – for once." She added dryly.

Kirra heaved a sigh, "Alright, have you eaten?" She asked, knowing the answer before Shay could say anything.

Shay looked at her as if she had grown a second head, "Heck no, It's crepe day."

It had been a weekend tradition for Shay to come over and have crepes with Kirra. When they were younger, Lil had made the crepes while the girls filled them and ate in front of the Saturday cartoons. Now that they were older, the girls made them themselves and enjoyed them in front of the pool on good days and in front of the Saturday morning cartoons on stormy mornings. Since Kirra had wanted the house to herself for the first time ever, she had asked Shay to wait until Monday before coming over.

Kirra shrugged, "It's been a hectic weekend. I forgot. Sorry."

"'s okay," Shay said, frowning. "Has James been at you?"

Kirra, shook her head, glad Shay thought it was that and not something else, "No yet, but I am sure that will start soon. He has to give Mom and Dad a few days away – for form's sake."

"I'm sure," Shay said in a flat tone. "I just don't get why he won't leave you alone."

"You and me both," Kirra broke for the kitchen, praying that Gawain was still weak enough or lazy enough to sleep in this morning, "Well, come on. I'm starved."

"Yeah right," Shay said giving Kirra a pointed once over. Her friend was dressed in a sports bra and close fitting Capri pants, "You were getting ready to do your yoga." She said accusingly.

"Well, no yoga now, so bring on the crepes."

"You know," Kirra began as she pulled out the crepe pan and plugged it in. "I have never understood why you like to come over and sit in the sun so much." She pulled out the crepe bowl and found the whisk while Shay dug the flour out of the pantry and placed it on the counter. "Aren't you supposed to be all into Goth or something? Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose?"

Shay examined her nails for a second, they were painted a shiny beetle black, "Kirra, Kirra, Kirra," she said in mockingly patient tone, "that is why I brought a hat – and 200 spf sunscreen."

Kirra burst out laughing as she began to crack eggs into the bowl, "If that doesn't keep the sun away, nothing will. Are you the only Goth to use the stuff?"

"I'm sure I am not the only one," Shay stated seriously.

"Yeah, yeah. The strawberries are in the fridge." Kirra said adding milk and flour and whisking the whole mess. "And just so you know, strawberries don't seem all that Goth, either."

"Depends on what you're using them for," Shay said suggestively, popping a red berry into her mouth.

Kirra rolled her eyes and groaned, choosing not to go _there_.

Someone must have been watching out for her because Gawain did sleep in late that morning, not even waking when Kirra crept up the stairs to change into her swimming suit. However, the window of his room faced the backyard and so he woke to the sounds of laughing girls and splashing water. He pulled on a shirt and a pair of shorts and, following the sound of laughter, found himself outside.

His jawed dropped as he caught sight of Kirra. She stood poised for a moment on the edge of a pool of clear, blue water, dressed in little more than nothing, before diving gracefully into the water. Her blurred figure was seen streaking beneath the shimmering expanse before she resurfaced at the opposite edge. She climbed out and pressed the water from her hair, laughing as she did so and talking animatedly to a girl who reclined in a chair in the shade.

The girl looked up from where she was slathering on a salve of sorts and saw Gawain standing in the doorway, gawking at Kirra. She stared for a few moments before saying something to Kirra which made her turn and wave.

To the knight's absolute discomfort, she started around the water towards him. He tried to look anywhere but at her exposed skin, which was nearly impossible seeing as there was so much of it. Her friend followed her, but not before donning a wide-brimmed black hat and a sheer robe of sorts. It didn't help -- she was dressed in almost as little.

"Good morning. How did you sleep?" Kirra asked shading her eyes. The sun winked off of a little ring she had at her navel, just begging for further investigation.

"Fine," He answered somewhat despondently.

He really needed to be more careful when he went to look for her, either that or just expect that she would be wearing next to nothing. It seemed to be perfectly normal for her, or – seeing her friend, this time.

Kirra watched him for a moment, "Great!" then turned to her friend. "Shay this is Gavin, Gavin," -- she gave Gawain a meaningful look -- "this is Shay." She said, introducing her friend to him in Latin and then English.

Shay looked the _Gavin_ up and down. Something was off. She had not missed that little pointed glance Kirra had given the man, yet Kirra seemed at ease with him. Something Shay could not fathom. His appearance was far from comfortable.

The man was quite literally covered in cuts and bruises. She looked down and spotted a white bandage wrapped around one calf and remembered how stiffly he had been moving, so there had to be more then what she saw. But it wasn't just the injuries, it was how he looked.

_Gavin_, for all the t-shirt and shorts -- which didn't suit him at all, looked rather, well, rather scary. He was quite tall, sturdy, and extremely well muscled. Long, wild hair hung in a disarray of braids and loose tangles about his face and shoulders. His blue eyes were calm enough, but watchful. Watchful when he looked at her, but hungry when he looked at Kirra – or tried not to look at her. His eyes flicked away from her almost as soon as they came to rest on her.

That worried Shay. Kirra was tiny compared to this guy. There was no way she could fight him off if he decided to go after her. Her eyes flicked to Kirra, who was standing somewhat awkwardly as if she were waiting for Shay to call her out. Shay knew she was lying or holding something back.

"_Gavin_, huh?" she echoed suspiciously.

_Gavin_ smiled and nodded. Shay turned to Kirra with a knowing look and then walked back to her chair and opened her book. If Kirra wanted to play that way, fine.

"I don't think she believes you," Gawain said to Kirra once Shay was out of earshot.

Kirra shrugged, her eyes darkening, "Probably not. She knows me too well and I'm a horrible liar. But on the off chance she does believe us; I told her you were Niara's nephew from Greece. It was the only thing I could come up with, given the short amount of time and the fact that you don't speak English."

Gawain had no idea where Greece was and glanced over to Shay, who was watching them through narrowed eyes over the edge of her book. He frowned and nodded, thinking he should escape while he had the chance. He didn't want to be around when the pale girl confronted Kirra about her little lie. Somehow, she didn't look the type to hold anything back.

"I think I will go inside and eat," He said as he tried to avoid looking at Kirra's scantily clad body and failed miserably.

"That's probably a good idea." She said, glancing back at her friend. "We left you breakfast in the kitchen. They're _crepes_. You put the fruit in the thin cake with a little of the white sauce and roll it up. I think you'll like them. Go ahead and eat the rest, they're for you ..." She explained at his quizzical expression and turned to accept her fate.

Gawain had to divert his eyes from her tempting little backside and groaned inwardly as he turned on his heel to get breakfast. Kirra was definitely not making life easy for him.

"Greece, huh?" Shay asked in a steely tone as Kirra approached her.

"Yeah," Kirra replied unconvincingly.

Shay raised a dark eyebrow, "That's funny 'cause I didn't know you spoke Greek -- only English and Latin. And _that_ didn't sound anything like Greek, though I'm certainly no expert." She waited, staring holes in Kirra as she fought not to squirm under the piercing glare.

"Okay!" Kirra burst out after a moment. "He's not Greek, but I can't tell you where he's from."

"Can't, meaning you _don't_ know or _won't_ tell?"

Kirra rolled her eyes at her friend, "_Won't_ tell," She said decisively.

"How come he looks as though someone has been using him for a punching bag?"

Kirra looked towards the house, "I can't tell you that, either."

"Hmm," Shay snorted disapprovingly. "Is he really Niara's nephew?"

Kirra took a deep breath. She really was a horrible liar and she felt guilty trying to pull it off against her best friend, "Well, he _knows_ Niara."

"Do your parents _know_ him?"

Narrowing her eyes, Kirra said, "No, and they don't need to. So keep it to yourself, Shay."

Shay narrowed her own eyes, "Don't look at me like that. This is your deal, not mine. But I'll keep your secret, unless something happens to you. I'm calling everyday – you don't answer, I'm calling James. That guy looked at you like he wanted to eat you."

Kirra was taken back at the threat, bewildered at Shay's announcement of the way she perceived Gawain saw Kirra, but relieved that she would not tell her parents about the unknown man staying with her best friend.

Shay pursed her lips thoughtfully, "Can I at least know his real name?"

Kirra thought. True, Shay was smart, but was she smart enough to come to the conclusion that Gawain was _the_ Gawain? And if she did, would she think that Kirra was crazy for believing it?

"We-ell. It's Gawain."

Shay made a face, "I liked Gavin better." She said disappearing back into her book.

Kirra rolled her eyes and turned back to the pool. Now would be the opportune time to swim a couple hundred laps. Maybe that would calm the unsettled feelings that knotted her stomach and made her palms sweat. Shay had given up far too easily for Kirra's comfort.

But surprisingly the subject was not brought up again for the remainder of the day and Gawain stayed hidden in his room, appearing only at lunch time then disappearing as soon as he had eaten, not saying anything to either girl.

Shay stayed until well after dinner, keeping a close eye on her friend – and Gawain. Nothing happened, but every once and awhile Kirra would look up and see Shay staring at her with a calculating expression behind her dark eyes. It was a relief when she finally announced it was time for her to leave.

"Remember what I said, Kirra. I'll be calling." She warned as she threw one last untrusting glance up the stairs where she was sure Gawain waited to pounce on Kirra as soon as she was gone.

"I'll be fine, Shay. No worries."

Shay harrumphed as she slouched out the door. Kirra waved to her as she started her car and drove away.

"I have never been so glad to see her leave, "Kirra said with a sigh as she sank into the couch beside Gawain. "She's like a dog with a bone when she knows something is up. And she is really suspicious over this; she won't give up just because I refuse to tell her all about you."

"Will she be a problem?" Gawain asked.

"I don't think so," Kirra said. "I think even if the correct thoughts passed through her head, she wouldn't believe them. It's too crazy. She's just worried you're going to eat me."

Gawain turned to stare at her, "Eat you?" It surprised him that her friend could be so observant. That was almost exactly what he had been feeling watching Kirra move wet and almost naked.

Kirra's attention was on the TV, so she didn't notice Gawain's shocked expression, "That's what she said this afternoon after you made your untimely appearance."

Gawain collected himself and shrugged, thinking it was better to downplay the whole situation, "How was I supposed to know the girl was there? _You_ weren't supposed to tell anyone about me." He hid his smile at Kirra's little angry huff.

"I had forgotten I told her to come over. I couldn't very well tell her to go home. She's my best friend; it would have hurt her feelings."

"Will that matter in the end?"

Kirra was silent a long time at his question. When Gawain looked at her, her face was set and hard, yet there seemed to be tears glimmering in her eyes. He sighed and draped his arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze.

"I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Kirra."

"I know," She whispered, sniffling and fighting back the tears. "I can't help it. Shay's been my only friend since I came here. We're like sisters."

Gawain stroked Kirra's hair in attempt to comfort her, "Then it's probably fine that she knows. I am sure if it mattered all that much, she wouldn't have been allowed to come over."

Kirra leaned her head against him, yawning widely. She was used to going to bed early and it was later then normal for her, "I hope you're right." She said.

"You are tired. Go upstairs and sleep. I'll not eat you." Gawain said with a grin as he nudged the sleepy girl. Though he was feeling quite well, he wasn't sure his shoulder and leg would be up to carrying her up the stairs again if she fell asleep. He could still feel a couple of twinges from the night before.

"That's sounds like a good idea," Kirra stood up and stretched, revealing a couple of inches of bared skin as she did so, Gawain shook his head ruefully. It didn't seem to matter if she were fully clothed or barely clothed, Kirra always managed to sow something.

"Good night, _Gavin_," She said with a grin as she snapped for Finn and dodged the pillow Gawain tossed at her as she left the room.


	10. Chapter 10

**#10 Never Alone**

With all good food and rest he could ever possibly need – not to mention the attention of Kirra, Gawain felt like he was himself within five days time. The bruises had not faded completely, but they were an ugly yellow that meant they were on their way out. Kirra said that his gashes were healing well and that if he continued as he was, they could come out in another five days.

Of course, feeling himself also meant that Gawain was getting bored. For a person used to daily activity, eating and sleeping – now that he had done them both all he wanted, were not as wonderful as he had first thought.

"So, does the physician think that I am fit enough for a ride today?" he asked hopefully one morning after Kirra had changed his bandages.

She stepped back and gave him the once over then shrugged, "I think if you take it easy – nothing wilder then a canter and _no jumping_, you should be fine."

Gawain could hardly contain his grin of anticipation. He had never gone this long without being astride a horse in his life and the thought of Kirra's elegant mare had his mouth watering. He tugged his shirt on and leaned over to give Kirra an exuberant kiss on the cheek. She flushed a pleased pink that did not go unnoticed.

"Care to come?" he asked.

Kirra shook her head, "I'll take a rain check. There are a few things I have to get settled here, and," she rolled her eyes, "Shay hasn't called yet – you know how she gets, but I'll introduce you to Fate."

The stable was surprisingly small, though bright and clean. Given the size of the house, Gawain would have thought it would have been more spacious. When he mentioned it to Kirra, she shrugged.

"Well, I am the one who cares for the horses, so I wanted something small so there wouldn't be too much for me to muck. Fate and Jin haven't complained about it." She said as she stopped at the smaller of the two stalls. A small mare with large black and white patches and mismatched eyes stuck her head out and whickered eagerly.

"This is Jin," Kirra said fondly as she held a chunk of carrot out. The mare delicately lipped it from her palm then rested her chin on the girl's shoulder as she crunched it up.

"I have never seen a horse with such coloring," Gawain said in astonishment. "Is she supposed to look like that?"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear the mild disgust in your voice," Kirra responded reprovingly. "Yes, Jin is _supposed_ to look this way. She is called a paint. They're actually quite common and I think she is lovely." She scratched the mare under her chin and kissed her nose to prove her point. "He didn't mean to hurt your feelings, sweetheart. He's just a big caveman." She whispered into the mare's white ear, watching if Gawain had heard out of the corner of her eye.

Kirra unlatched the stall door and led the mare out, "Come on."

Gawain frowned at Jin's small size, "I am not sure she's big enough." He said doubtfully.

Kirra laughed, "You aren't going to ride _her_. I am just going to let her into the pasture to run." She was still giggling as she led the mare outside and came back, halter in hand. She hung it on a nail outside the mare's stall.

"You get to ride Fate."

Gawain snorted, "That's appropriate. That seems like all I have been riding since I met you."

"Funny, huh," Kirra said as she rapped on the next stable door and peered over. "Time to get up, lazy girl." She called cheerfully.

There was a grunt and the sound of straw rustling and then a rumpled black head with a long forelock and bright eyes appeared over the door. Fate grumbled a bit and nudged Kirra's head, demanding her treat.

"She is a pushy one," Kirra said as she held out another carrot chunk. "She thinks she's a princess and far too good for anyone in this stable. You'll have to watch that she doesn't take advantage of your good nature."

Gawain held out a palm for the mare to sniff, which she did – then promptly turned her tail to him and lay down again. Kirra laughed and unlatched the stall door.

"Yeah, I don't think so," She grasped Fate's halter and pulled the mare to her feet. "You get to get out for a little exercise." She explained as she clipped on a lead and led the horse out into the open part of the stable. Kirra secured her, retrieved her grooming tools and started brushing the straw and dust from the mare's dark hide.

"Lazy is she?" Gawain asked as he stood near Fate's head, letting the mare grow accustomed to him.

"She can be," Kirra said not breaking stride. "But I love her and she moves beautifully. It's my fault really, I spoil her," she made a face; "I spoil them both."

She watched as Gawain took a firm hold on the Fate's halter and gently blew in her nostrils. The mare raised her lip, catching the man's scent, then lowered her head and pushed against his chest. He didn't move from his spot and the horse sighed and rested her head on his shoulder as Kirra finished her grooming.

"Well, that was easy. Fate barely tolerates my dad. You must have a gift."

"It's in my blood," He said stroking Fate's silken neck. "Women and horses," He grinned broadly at Kirra's groan.

"That is just wrong." She commented as she left to get saddle and blanket from the small tack closet and started saddling Fate.

"In any case, I think we'll be fine," Gawain said with a low chuckle. "Don't you agree, beautiful?"

Kirra's head whipped up, a sharp retort dying in her throat when she saw it was Fate Gawain had been talking to. She rolled her eyes uncomfortably annoyed.

"I hope she tosses you."

Gawain gave Kirra a pained look, "Kirra, I was born on the back of a horse. Do you think I am going to let one as docile as Fate throw me? What kind of Sarmatian would I be to allow that?"

Kirra's expression changed subtly and something unreadable passed over her striking features, "I don't know." She murmured. And she didn't know. She had no idea what a Sarmatian should be or shouldn't be. It was something to think about

"Well, I think that should do it. Mount up and I'll adjust the stirrups. I have a feeling they'll be a touch too short for you."

"Most likely," he said patting her condescendingly on the head as he passed.

"Ha – ha," Kirra said. "Get up there, will you."

Gawain pulled himself up. It felt wonderful to be back on a horse again. Kirra adjusted the stirrups, then took Fate's bridle in hand, leading horse and rider outside. Jin's looked up from where she grazed on the lush grass of the pasture and she whinnied a greeting to her stable mate.

"Alright, you have miles to explore. Just don't cross any roads or open any gates. And you," -- she kissed Fate's nose -- "No craziness and take care of him. I don't want to have to patch him up any more." She backed away and when she smiled up at Gawain, something was missing from her smile. "Have fun."

He watched Kirra for a second, then nudged Fate who tossed her head before taking off towards the wooded hills at a full out gallop. Kirra shook her head in exasperation and hoped none of her careful stitches came out. She watched until horse and rider had disappeared into the trees then turned to go back in.

---------------------

Gawain came in following his ride, disheveled and still tingling from the freedom it allowed him feel, and followed the sound of Kirra's music to the upper-most room of the house. He found her sitting with her back to the door bowed over something in her lap. The softly curling ends of her dark hair brushed the floor collecting dust. She turned her head when Gawain entered the room and he caught sight of a glimmering tear track on her face before she wiped it away.

He crossed the room and sat down beside her. She was staring at a small … photo, he remembered the word from earlier without too much difficulty. Tears dripped down her face as she gazed at it.

"What is it?" He asked in concern.

She passed the photo to him; it was of the child Kirra and her parents. Their arms were thrown around each other and huge grins were plastered on their faces. Kirra looked absolutely blissful and her mother was smiling through tears. Gawain couldn't picture a happier family. He looked up in confusion not understanding Kirra's sorrow.

"It was the day that my parents adopted me." She explained as she sniffed and wiped at her eyes, "It was a good day. Nobody seemed to know where I had come from. It was if I had just appeared one day. By the time I met the couple who would be my parents; I had been there for so long and I was so lost and confused. Then they came and all that fear went away. They were wonderful."

Gawain handed the photo back to Kirra then reached for a pile of pictures and flipped through them. They were all of Kirra growing up.

There was one of her and her first dog, Mab. One of her proudly astride Fate for the first time, at the auction house collecting Jin, another was a goofy picture of her hanging upside down from a tree branch and yet another with her parents on her sixteenth birthday. They were all pictures of her life and he thought they were amazing.

"It will be hard for you to leave them won't it?"

"Yes and harder knowing that it will be like I never existed. All of those," -- she gestured to the pictures -- "really won't even be memories, just blanks. I wonder what the goddess will fill their heads with."

"You know," Gawain started cautiously. "It may be for the best that they don't remember you."

Kirra blinked at him betrayal bright in her eyes, "What? Why?"

"Would it not be worse for them if you just one day disappeared and they could not find you?"

Kirra bit her lip. It would be worse for her parents if she was just gone one day, but she didn't want to believe it. She looked at Gawain, her eyes the bleak grey of the sky before a storm, and said in a small voice, "I'll be alone again."

Gawain was struck by the expression of absolute grief on her face. It struck at his heart because he knew that look. It was the same he had worn when he was taken from his family, certain he would die before it was time to return to them.

To her, he realized suddenly, to be forgotten, would be worse then death. Even those of his family who had remained behind could and would remember their lost ones. Hers never would. He scooted closer to her and pushed her dark hair over her shoulder before cupping her cheek gently. She closed her eyes and leaned into his hand, a single tear slid from under her lashes to trickle down his fingers.

Kirra took a sobbing breath, "What am I to do?"

Gawain watched her tear fall to the floor and answered her softly, "The only thing you can do -- grieve and then live."

He gathered her close to him and settled her against his chest, she felt good there. As she cried, Gawain rocked her and murmured into her thick hair, "You'll never be alone, Kirra."


	11. Chapter 11

**#11 Temptation**

The violence of the storm woke Gawain from a deep sleep. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced and he wondered if it was something normal to this part of the world or if it had something to do with the magic he had so recently learned really existed. The thunder was deafening and the lightening flashed every few moments.

He slid from his bed thinking of checking the house once again for uninvited guests. He knew he was safe and that he and Kirra were the only ones in the house, but old habits died hard and the storm was uncomfortably similar to the one he had fallen through before Kirra had found him. It made him jumpy and was impossible to sleep through.

He prowled silently through the dark house blinking at every flash of lightening and pausing to allow his eyes to readjust to the darkness before continuing on. Kirra's room he purposefully saved for last. He didn't want to unnecessarily frighten her by just appearing in a flash of light, if the storm had awakened her as it had him.

And there was something about entering the privacy of the girl's room that gave him pause where it never had before. Remembering the last time it had happened, Gawain knew she would not appreciate him going into her private room unannounced and uninvited, but he was compelled to go.

He hadn't intended on doing much more then opening the door and glancing in to make sure that she was all right and alone, but once he pushed the door open and saw her tense body he couldn't leave.

At some point during her troubled sleep, Kirra had kicked the blankets from her and was lying in the middle of the bed looking small and vulnerable. She looked to Gawain like a child curled into the fetal position, one hand fisted and pressed against her mouth as if, even in her sleep, she attempted to keep herself from crying out. Every time the thunder roared and the lightening flashed she folded tighter into herself, a muffled mew of protest escaping around her small fist.

He was unsure if it was nightmares bothering the woman or the fury of the storm, or perhaps a combination of the both, but he felt as if he had to help calm her and soothe the tight lines of distress he saw on her face at every flash of light.

"Kirra?" He said in a low tone, not wishing to frighten her as he approached the side of her bed.

The girl didn't answer, but shuddered and whimpered instead, pulling herself into a tighter ball. Gawain saw her eyes move rapidly beneath her closed lids. So she was dreaming. Knowing from personal experience that it never was a good thing to waken a person who was dreaming so heavily, he reached out a hand and brushed a lock of damp hair from her forehead. His touch instead of relaxing her as he had hoped caused Kirra to jerk awake and stare up at him with sorrow darkened eyes.

"What are you doing here?" She gasped as she struggled to throw off the emotions her dreams had forced on her and at the same time remember what it was that caused them.

"The storm woke me and I wanted to be certain you were well," Gawain explained carefully.

Kirra sagged against the mattress and swiped at her burning eyes, "I'm all right." She said sounding anything but.

Gawain settled himself on the edge of her bed, "You do not seem it."

"It's just … this dratted storm." Kirra lied. But she managed to cringe convincingly at the next crash of thunder, not opening her eyes to look at the man whose mere presence, oddly enough, did much to calm the racing of her heart.

She was just so tired. Ever since Gawain had come into her life she had been bothered more and more frequently by unremembered dreams. She was not sleeping well. The spring storms, which had never bothered her before -- added to his presence, now caused memories long since buried and forgotten to creep to the edges of her mind. But they would not force their way to the surface and Kirra was left with half glimpsed, blurry snapshots. They left her with sorrow and fear, but little else. Nothing at all conducive to normal living. She felt herself drifting again and knew the dreams were edging in, but was so weary she could do little to stop it.

Gawain had figured Kirra was sleeping little. It was in the dark smudges under her eyes and the quiet yawns she covered when she was working at her computer and thought he wasn't paying attention. But he didn't know the reason why. She was one stubborn female and he only saw what she let him and no more. Frowning, he drew her blankets up and laid them over her. As he turned to leave, Kirra moaned, once again gripped in dark dreams and he sighed. It was going to be a long night. The storm seemed to be making her restlessness worse.

He made his way over to the bed and slid in next to the girl, gathering her to him and settling her as he leaned against the wooden head of the bed. He ran his hand soothingly down her back and crooned softly to her even as he tried not to feel the soft brush of her skin or the silk of her hair falling against his bare chest. She was wearing soft pants that tied at her hips and one of her thin, strappy shirts again. He could feel the curves of her body press against his. It was a feeling that would not soon be forgotten.

Gawain looked heavenwards and prayed to whatever god that had gotten him into this mess that, just for the night, he could ignore the heating of his blood at Kirra's breath moving warm against his skin and her innocent trust in him as she curled more comfortably into his body, one small hand splayed against his chest. And for once since the whole confusing episode began, Gawain's prayer was answered. His eyes grew heavy and soon the storm, with its light and noise had faded into the background, even his uncomfortable position and Kirra's warm and tempting weight were forgotten as sleep overtook him.

He woke late the next morning, still in Kirra's bed. She was up and probably meditating as she was apt to do, but had thoughtfully covered him before leaving. He wondered what she thought upon awaking and finding him in her bed, but finding he was all in one piece he let it go.

Burying his face in her pillow, he drank in her light scent before groaning and pushing himself out of her bed. A man could only take so much temptation before succumbing. Had Kirra any idea what she did to him?

Returning to his own room, Gawain dressed then followed the scent of coffee to the kitchen. Kirra was seated at the table with her hands wrapped around a mug of something smelling of flowers. Surprisingly, there was no breakfast to be seen. Accepting the fact, Gawain busied himself with the drink he had so grown to like. He did not hear Kirra come up behind him.

Hesitantly she placed a hand on his arm, "Thank you, for last night. It was the first night in a long time that I have been able to sleep without dreaming."

Gawain turned and found her much closer then was safe for her in his present state of mind. The dark circles that had stood out so starkly from under her eyes yesterday were gone and her cheeks were pink again. It was amazing what one night of sleep could do.

He left his mug on the counter and cupped Kirra's cheek; brushing her full lower lip with his thumb he said quietly, "Good." His body throbbed with unexpected heat at her warm breath.

Kirra didn't draw away, but closed her eyes in response to his touch and leaned into his hand. "Why is it I feel so safe with you? I don't really know you. But I've let you do what I would never have even thought of letting anyone else to do." She murmured as she opened her innocent gray eyes to meet his sober blue ones.

She was so innocent, so trusting, so utterly desirable that Gawain could only shake his head in answer as he gave into her allure and lowered his head to gently kiss her lips. They were as soft as they looked and tasted of the honey she had used in her tea and he had to have more.

Kirra moved closer, pressing herself into him, as he deepened the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck threading her fingers through his long hair, pulling him ever closer to her.

She moaned against his lips when trailed his hands down her sides and stroked the soft skin that he found had bared an inch or two when she had reached up. Gently he grasped her small waist and lifted her to sit on the counter giving him easier access to her warm and willing mouth.

He had known many women in his life, yet no other had ever made him feel as this small, self-possessed girl had. She made him want to forget every duty he ever had to anyone but her. He wanted to protect her and make sure that she was never hurt by anyone or anything ever again. This, he realized unhappily, included himself.

Kirra deserved better then he. After all, what could he offer to her -- or any woman for that matter, short of a single night of pleasure? His life was not his to live. He had to return home and when he did there would be no room for love in it.

_Love._

The strength of his emotions and his realization caused Gawain to end his kiss abruptly and stand with his forehead pressed against Kirra's, breathing hard, his eyes closed tight in attempt to rein in his flood of conflicting emotions and desires. His hands fell from her waist and he gripped the counter tight enough that his knuckles went white.

"What is it?" Kirra asked huskily, her sweet breath caressing his hot face. She framed his face with her delicate hands and restlessly smoothed the lines from it. She didn't know what Gawain felt; only that she had to do everything in her power to comfort him.

"Nothing, beautiful girl," Gawain said as he stepped back and lifted her down again. He saw the confusion in her swirling gray eyes and smiled sadly, "I think that it would be better if we not continue down that road. I am … unsure as to what I am feeling, but I have not the luxury of learning what it is. We have to figure out how to get back and this is distracting me."

Kirra bit her lower lip and Gawain saw a curtain slam down over her eyes and hide the rejection and hunger he observed there. She nodded curtly and wrapped her arms around her chest hugging herself tightly, refusing to show hurt at his words.

"Yes, you're right; we have to find the key. If you'll excuse me ..." Side-stepping him, she sat back down at the table. "So, where should we look today?" She questioned mockingly without meeting Gawain's eyes, knowing he had not a clue. She gripped her mug as if she were strangling it -- as if it had been the thing to offend her, but did not drink of it.

Gawain sat down heavily opposite her. He knew he had hurt her, but was unable to offer consolation. Perhaps it was better if she hated him, or at least pretended that she hated him.

"I don't know, Kirra." She flinched at her name, causing Gawain's heart to ache, and she quietly left the table. Gawain sat and stared at her abandoned cup for a long time.

----------------------------

Kirra didn't work on her computer that day; instead she called Shay and invited her over. The pale girl eyed him speculatively when she arrived, hostility barely veiled in her dark eyes, but other then that ignored him and focused on her friend. They spent the day laughing and talking and left Gawain briefly to go to town to get food and movies.

Gawain tried not to let it bother him. He knew that Kirra needed to relax and be with another woman. She was so innocent that it was very likely that she was not only hurt but also confused as to what was going on. The thought that he was only adding to Kirra's restlessness stung, but Gawain swallowed the need to fix it telling himself it was for the best.

Apologizing to Jin and saddling the larger Fate, he took the opportunity to escape the confines of the house and further explore the surrounding forests. Finn accompanied him and they stayed away for most of the day; returning only when the sun was starting to sink and the sky was bright with the colors of the sunset.

As he entered the house, he avoided the two young women who had set up camp in the family room. He helped himself to the half devoured pizza smothered in cheese and quite a few unrecognizable things and could hear the women laughing, Kirra's delicious, husky laugh and the Shay's bell-like tones. Most likely they laughed over him or men in general.

He took his food and retired upstairs to watch the TV that was set up in the _Day Room_. He couldn't understand a word that was spoken, but enjoyed watching the football games that Kirra had shown him. He was beginning to understand the rules, or at least thought he did and thought it would be something interesting to try when he returned home. Most of the others would enjoy a game like that.

He fell asleep much later that night to the sound of giddy feminine laughter wafting up the stairs.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you to all those who had given me such great reviews (and you know who you are) :o)!**

**Okay, I am going to be away for the weekend, so I thought I would update now and with a couple of chapters.**

**Enjoy, and I'll be thinking of you while I'm playing in Florida!**

**#12 James**

The phone woke Kirra and she groaned as she rolled to her feet to answer it. Shay, a shock of inky hair just visible under a blanket, shifted but didn't waken.

"Hello?" Kirra said after a moment's hesitation to clear her throat.

"Kirra? Did I wake you?"

Kirra snapped awake with the realization that it was her aunt who was on the other line. What did _she_ want? "That's fine, Aunt Sarah, I had Shay over last night and we stayed up later then we should've."

"Well, I hope that you didn't mess your mother's house up too much," Sarah's voice was disapproving.

Kirra rolled her eyes, "Nothing that can't be folded and put away, Aunt." She paused, dreading the answer and asked, "Is there a reason you called?"

"Well sweetheart, one of your uncle's associates called and said that he saw a man riding around the property on a black horse," She waited a moment for Kirra's explanation or hint of surprise when it didn't come she continued, her voice hardening audibly. "He knew your parents were out of town and was worried about you. After the call, we were so worried that James and I decided to come right over and make sure for ourselves that you were all right."

Kirra frowned, this would not be good. "Well, I am sure that Uncle James' friend was mistaken, but I'll run down to the stable and check to make sure that Fate is safely in her stall."

The horror in Sarah's voice was a little too thick to be real, "Oh no, dear, don't do that! It could be dangerous." -- _Like you care_, Kirra thought -- "You stay right where you are and James will take care of it when we arrive."

"And just when will you be here?" Kirra asked, again dreading the answer.

"Within the hour. Now promise me you will stay in the house."

Kirra's stomach did a belly flop, That didn't leave much time, which she knew was exactly what James and Sarah were going for. They were dying to catch her doing something her parents would not approve of.

"Of course," She managed to croak in a strangled voice that woke Shay. Her friend sat looking at Kirra with a questioning expression on her sleepy face.

"Shay, too," Sarah's voice was sugary sweet and sing-songy. It made Kirra want to vomit.

"Yes, Aunt Sarah, Shay too," Kirra said with deceptive obedience. "I'll see to you soon."

"Yes, you will. Good-bye."

Kirra hung up and turned to her friend with a dark expression, "Someone saw Gawain yesterday. They called James and Sarah." Shay stood up in alarm. "Stay here and clean this up and I'll go upstairs and wake him up. I've got to get his stuff cleared out of the room before they get here." Kirra ordered before turning and racing for the stairs without waiting for her friend to agree.

"Okay," Shay called to her friend's retreating back. She wished Kirra would tell her the truth about the man staying in her house – without her parents' permission, but now was definitely not the time. She knew all too well what Kirra's aunt and uncle were like.

Kirra threw open the door to the _Day Room_ without knocking. She shook Gawain with one hand while reaching with the other to open the blinds. "Come on, get up." She begged.

The knight sat bolt upright, hissing at the pain the sudden movement caused. He slid from the bed and stood watching Kirra as she flew around the room gathering his things, "What is this about, Kirra?" he asked, running a hand through his sleep tousled hair, well tried to anyway.

She stopped for a breath of time, "My aunt and uncle are on their way. Someone saw you riding yesterday." Her face was flushed and her eyes rolled like a frightened horse's.

Gawain placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed gently, "Breathe, girl. I'll stay in here until they leave and not make a noise, it will be fine."

Kirra tossed her head, "No, they'll stay here overnight; they always do, and will expect to use this room. They are here to find out if I messed up. One call from them and my parents will be home in a flash and then we'll never figure this mess out. You've got to help me get your stuff into my room." She shoved the armful she had at him, "It's the only room in the house that they won't dare go into – I hope."

"Kirra," he protested, remembering all too well what had happened the last time he had gone into her room, "I'll stay in the forest."

Kirra searched Gawain's eyes desperately, "No, you can't stay in the forest. James will make it a point to search every square inch of it for a couple miles out, if he found you, he would have you arrested and I wouldn't be able to do a thing about it. Just please, I'm sorry about the other night, but you have to do this for me."

The knight arched an eyebrow and shook his head as he trudged off to her room. "Can't see why your room wouldn't be the first place he looked if he suspected you of having a man here."

"He wouldn't dare go into my room without my permission. He tried it once and my dad nearly hit the roof." Kirra said, but she hung Gawain's clothes in the back of her closet, well behind her own and took the armful from him. She tossed it on the closet floor, there it looked like a mess of laundry, but was virtually indistinguishable as men's clothing and not women's. She threw a pile of her stuff on top, just to make certain, then turned on her heel and went across the hall.

He followed her back to his room, "Why would he have reason to go into your room?" He questioned blackly, realizing that he really didn't like her uncle, even if he hadn't ever met the man.

She leaned over and sniffed at a pillow, "Damn, it smells like you." She proceeded to rip the cover off and then attacked the bedclothes. "Take it easy. It isn't what you think. James was badgering me one day about the whole land thing. Finally when I couldn't take it any more, I escaped up here -- after saying some pretty nasty things to him. It made him furious and he charged up here like a bear, nearly broke my door down before dad could talk some reason into him." She threw the pile of lsheets on the floor and remade the bed with clean bedclothes from the hall closet.

Gawain crossed his arms over his chest and his eyes glittered dangerously, "You are sure that he won't go in there? Because I do not have the same restraint as your father. That man gets pushy with you and I won't be responsible for what I do to him."

Kirra stopped what she was doing and looked at the knight. She had never heard such a tone in her life, especially not with her safety in mind and she knew that he meant it. "No, you won't. Promise me, Gawain."

A muscle rippled ominously down the knight's jaw. Kirra drew a deep breath and grabbed his arms, "Promise me, Knight." She demanded with a little shake and was relieved to feel him relax a bit at her touch.

"Fine," He agreed through clenched teeth and Kirra sagged with relief.

"Good, now put on some pants and help me."

It was intensely distracting to have him dressed in nothing but a pair of boxers. Kirra could still feel the hardness of him under her fingers and rolled her eyes to herself. This was not the time to be letting her hormones run away with her.

What was it with the man anyway? One minute she felt ready to slap him and the next she had to turn away, unless she wanted her blush to reveal certain thoughts that – she knew from yesterday, were not reciprocated. Thankfully he had found a pair of jeans and tugged them on, no luck with the shirt though. Kirra turned and saw Shay standing in the door, eyes huge and mouth hanging open as she watched the man move about the room. And for once there was absolutely no hint of suspicion in those dark depths whatsoever.

Oh, the curse of adolescence.

-------------------

The doorbell sounded just as Kirra was throwing the sheets in the washer. She whipped her head around and caught a glimpse of bare feet as Gawain retreated upstairs. Shay came down.

"Everything is spic and span in the room. I opened the windows too, to air it out. Man, Kirra. He really shouldn't be allowed to go shirtless."

Kirra rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I don't have time for this. Go make some coffee. This is going to be tricky."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist," Shay grumbled as she huffed off to the kitchen.

"Uncle James, Aunt Sarah." Kirra said with forced civility when she opened the door. "Thanks for coming to check on me."

"It's our pleasure." Her uncle said looking Kirra over with suspicious eyes as his wife embraced Kirra with what she thought was a motherly hug. "Your father would do the same for me, if you were my kid."

Kirra couldn't wait to get out of such close proximity to her aunt and uncle and moved away almost before her aunt had let her go. "Are these all your things?" She asked gesturing to the various bags they had brought in from the car. "I'll take them up to the guest room, if you'd like," She took a hold of two and started for the stairs.

James nodded, "I'll help you with those."

Kirra forced herself to smile in thanks as her uncle took the other bags. _Please let him be in my room and please let the door be closed. Please, please, please. _Kirra prayed. She nearly fainted with relief when she stepped onto the landing and saw her door was closed. She set the bags on the floor beside the bed in the _Day Room_ and turned to go back downstairs.

"Shay's making coffee, Uncle, if you would like some."

James set his bags down and turned to her, his expression was cold, "Not so fast, little niece," The word niece was said in a mocking tone. "I would like to take a look at that beautiful painting your father decided you were old enough to have, against my better advice."

When Kirra and her mother had decided to redecorate the house, Scott had given Kirra a museum quality reproduction of Hassan's, _Moonlight on the Isle of Shoals_. It was Kirra's favorite. She had fallen in love with it after seeing it in a calendar and had spent years begging for it. Scott, never one to be sentimental, had surprised her with it on her fifteenth birthday. James had been livid that his brother would spend that kind of money on a pricey work of art for teenager's bedroom.

Kirra kept her face carefully composed. She should have known James would try something like this. "Well, my room is a huge mess right now, Uncle. Could you do it later? After I have had time to clean it up?"

James' sludgy-green eyes narrowed, "I don't think so, Kirra." He took her roughly by the arm and propelled her towards her door, "Open it." He hissed into her ear.

Taking what she thought would be her last breath, Kirra threw open the door to her room. Everything was in its place and nothing male could be seen. She let her breath out slowly and tried to keep her eyes from roaming over the room to find Gawain. Where had he gone? James let her go and peered around the room. He opened the door to her bathroom and looked in the closet as Kirra fought the urge to squirm.

"See Uncle James, no one here." Kirra said letting her uncle know she knew the reason for his insistence on begin admitted to her room. Her arm ached where he had grabbed her and she was less then thrilled that thirty seconds into his visit, he was already physically exerting his authority over her.

He turned to her, sneering, "You may have been able to fool me this time, but it won't happen again. I know there is someone here who should not be and I will find him."

Kirra smiled sweetly, "I have no idea what you are talking about. I know the rules."

James stalked out of the room and soon his steps could be heard going down the stairs. Kirra cast one more look around the room, "Thanks." she whispered to the quiet room before shutting the door.

Later that evening, Kirra came into her room and after closing the door, slid down it to sit on her haunches. Gawain pulled himself up from where he lay stomach down on the floor. He had spent his day looking at the pictures in her books. There were few of them and he was bored almost to tears, but he didn't feel nearly as bad as Kirra looked.

"Rough day?" he asked brightly as he sat on the end of her bed.

Kirra groaned, "And it's not over. Sarah," -- she said the name in disgust -- "is one of those who make you dress up for dinner." Her eyes narrowed, "I hate wearing dresses." She hauled herself to her feet and began to rummage through her closet, "I can't wait for tomorrow and if they come again, I am calling my parents." She emphasized her threat by yanking down a black dress and stalking to her bathroom to change.

Gawain sighed and flipped open a book that he had already seen a couple hundred times. The photos in it were glossy and of hundreds of different animals, all were amazing even if the knight had no idea what they were. But they were nothing compared to Kirra. His eyes nearly came out of his head when she emerged from her bathroom a little while later.

Her dress was black and was held up by a single strap over one shoulder. It clung to her curves and fell to just below her knees, revealing long shapely legs. She had run a wet brush through her hair to tame it and had then pinned it into place so that it trailed in a long gently waving tail down her back. Simple silver earrings gleamed at her ears and she had smudged her eyes with a black pencil, causing them to look as if the stars had graced her with their light.

She trudged unhappily to her closet and slipped into a pair of strappy black sandals that gave her at least two inches of added height. She was exotic and so alluring that for a moment it was all Gawain could do to remember to draw breath.

She met his eyes, "Shocking, I know," she snapped. "But get your tongue back in your mouth." Her frustration at having to act the part of a trained monkey for her aunt and uncle made her waspish.

Not understanding the expression Gawain folded his arms across his chest in a gesture that Kirra was coming to recognize as defiance and said coolly, "You would look better if you smiled."

She snorted and sprayed a bit of scent on her wrists, "As if I care whether I look good for them."

"Well, then imagine you are about to dine with someone who you want to look beautiful for."

Her anger slipped but just a bit, "Beautiful?"

Gawain fought the urge to roll his eyes as he had seen Kirra do so often. How could a man live with one woman and one woman only? A few days with Kirra and he was about to go crazy with her mood swings. "Yes, _if_ you would smile."

She did then, a dazzling one that lit her features, and she giggled, suddenly very young, "Thanks." She said waltzing from the room. A second later she poked her head back in, "I'll bring some dinner later. You doing okay?"

Gawain settled himself on her bed and folded his arms under his head, "Yes, but a bit of supper wouldn't go amiss. Make it more soon then late."

Kirra nibbled her lip, "I'll try," She said doubtfully then added in a hiss, "and get off that bed before someone sees you."

Gawain sighed and made no attempt to move as she shut the door. He could tell who was coming up the stairs by the sound. Only her aunt and uncle made noise when mounting the stairs, Kirra was silent.

It was several hours after dark when Kirra released from her torture and finally allowed to go to bed. She kicked off her shoes and leaned against the door sighing in relief. Gawain was asleep sprawled across her bed, shaking her head in annoyance she put the covered plate she had snuck upstairs on her dresser and slipped into the bathroom to change and wash the make-up from her face.

When she came out she studied the sleeping man as she contemplated where to sleep. It was still chilly at night and he was sprawled on top of the blankets. She glanced to her door, she could just make out her uncle's voice as he and her aunt settled down to sleep. It would arouse his suspicion if he heard her getting blankets out of the linen closet or heard her trooping down to her parent's room to sleep and Kirra was not about to sleep on the floor -- not in her own room.

She did the only thing she could think of and shoved Gawain's leg out of the way to lie down next to him, a healthy five inches or so away and squished perilously near the edge. He rolled to his side giving Kirra a bit more room but not much because he was still in the middle of the bed. She burrowed her head into her pillow and fought the giggle that threatened to burst out of her at her predicament. Soon, though her exhaustion won and Kirra was asleep.

It wasn't much later when she awoke to a sharp rap on her door. Gawain was sitting up and staring at it, he turned to her as she blinked up at him.

"Wha?"

"Answer it," He hissed below his breath as he slipped away to stand in the shadows.

Kirra flopped off the bed and angrily yanked the door open, "What?" she snapped.

Sarah was taken back by the venom in her niece's voice. The girl was sarcastic, as most teenagers were, but she had never been overly aggressive. Sarah angrily drew herself up to her full height, a full four inches taller then the girl, it had no visible affect on Kirra, she stayed where she pinning the older woman with an intimidating glare.

"I am sorry to wake you, but your dog is making so much noise, we can't sleep."

Finn's lonesome howls could be heard echoing down the hall.

Kirra stepped into the hall and Sarah stepped back from her barely controlled annoyance, "I told you he wouldn't like being kept outside." She said in a sleep roughened voice and stomped down the stairs. A few moments later the back door was heard opening and then the thump of heavy paws on the stairs as Finn made a bee-line for Kirra's room. It happened so quickly that Sarah was unable to have a chance to do what James had sent her to do -- another run of Kirra's room.

Kirra stalked up the stairs and shot another glare at her aunt as she opened the door for her dog, "There, no more noise." She stated curtly before shutting the door in Sarah's face.

"Goodnight," Sarah called.

There was no answer from the girl on the other side of the door and Sarah felt her temper rise. She had a good mind to barge in there and give Kirra a piece of her mind but when she turned the doorknob, a low rumbling growl could be heard from inside.

_Damn dog_, the woman thought as she stalked back to bed.

"Stupid woman," Kirra whispered in the same moment.

She heard her aunt retreat and the door to the guest room close before she turned back to her bed. Finn had jumped up and made himself at home at the foot. Gawain was watching her from the shadows, his expression undecipherable. She threw herself down on the bed and curled into a tight ball facing the wall.

"Go to sleep," She muttered before closing her eyes, but it was several long moments before she felt the bed dip and the man next to her slide down.

When he did, she felt a heavy arm fall across her waist and pull her close. She thought about pushing him away, but decided she liked the warmth and the solid feel of him so she left him alone and snuggled down.

She told herself he was doing it to comfort her -- he was that type of guy, always looking out for someone else. The things he said and did meant nothing. He had made his feelings for her known but it was a long time before sleep finally claimed her.


	13. Chapter 13

**#13 Realization**

Kirra pushed herself away from the computer and growled loudly in frustration, "I give up." She said slamming her hands down on the arms of the chair she was in.

Her aunt and uncle had left three days ago and she had done nothing but sit and stare at the computer screen. Shay had come the day after, to make sure that she had survived her visitors – all of them -- but found that not even she was unable to get Kirra away from the monitor, so had promptly and annoyedly left.

Gawain wandered in from the direction of the kitchen where he had been sitting at the table looking out the window, bored, restless and surprisingly not hungry. Kirra had removed his stitches that morning and thanks to her help, the last of his bruises were gone. He was completely himself -- well, almost. What he wouldn't give for a good, hard practice bout. He had some growing frustrations to work off.

He had learned that Kirra had the ability to focus on her researching with a single-mindedness that allowed the whole world -- including him, to fade into the background and be forgotten. And since he could do nothing to help, he had spent the time pacing, itching to do something, anything.

All he could see of Kirra was her arms dangling from the sides of the chair. As he approached, he found that she was slumped in it, her face angry and her eyes red rimmed, but dark. He dropped his hands to her shoulders.

"Already?" he asked in amusement.

She tipped her head back to look up at him and gestured sharply to the monitor. A drawing of a knight on a horse was there along with some writing. "I still can't find anything even relating to a key. Grail stories abound, but not one mention of a key, not even an ordinary one used to open doors. Not even the university libraries have anything to say on the matter."

Gawain squeezed gently feeling her bones. She was amazingly resilient for someone so small and fragile, "Perhaps you are not looking in the right place."

Kirra looked back at the computer and rubbed her cheek across the back of one of his hands thoughtfully. Gawain doubted she even realized that she had done so. But he did and his blood heated instantly. He let go and moved away to casually sprawl on the couch to Kirra's right. She brought a hand up and absently caressed her cheek in the same spot.

"You may be right," Her hand dropped and she looked over at Gawain, eyes dark and far away in thought. "Come on, let's get out of here." she blinked suddenly coming to herself and pulled herself out of the chair, "I have to get out. Now. Maybe the answer is closer then we think and it only takes some standing back to find it."

They decided to go for a ride. The day was fine and warm. Gawain watched Kirra closely. She was distracted and kept muttering to herself in English so he no idea as to what was going through her mind. Jin had picked up on her mistress' mood and gave a little jump as if to remind Kirra where she was. Kirra shook her head, eyes clearing, and leaned over to pat the spotted mare on the neck, crooning to her.

She glanced at Gawain, "Sorry, I'm not all here. I'm working a few things out."

"I noticed," He commented wryly and a frown creased Kirra's brow.

"We've come pretty far," She said looking around her and realizing for the first time where she had led them. "This is where you fell out of the sky or from wherever you came." She scouted the ground, "Maybe there is something here."

Gawain watched her as she swung down from Jin's back and slowly made her way to the edge of the tree line. It was a beautiful place, green and lush and warm, not cold or damp like the island he had come from, and he wondered how Kirra would feel leaving the land that she had been raised on.

"Nothing," She said standing tall and shading her eyes from the sun as she turned to face the waiting knight. "I wonder where your weapons went. All you were left with was your knife."

He guided Fate to her, "I think I dropped them before I fell through the light."

"Light?" Kirra said glancing up at him. "You never said anything about a light."

"I just remembered," He replied not taking his eyes off the green trees. They were so unlike the ones he knew, tall and peaked with sharp needles instead of leaves. "There was an ambush and I had taken three arrows before I was knocked from Drea's back.

"I barely made it to my feet when I saw a warm light and heard a soft voice calling. I thought I was dying. The voice told me I would be safe if I went to the light." His eyes grew troubled, "I remember looking back and seeing Gareth glance my way, but there were too many on him for him to come to my aid, so I stumbled through and found myself here."

Kirra took a deep breath, "I think you were dying. You had lost a lot of blood by the time I found you." She rested her hand on his leg, "Don't worry, we'll find the way to get back. They'll forgive you when they learn the story." She stayed that way a moment longer before dropping her hand and remounting Jin. "I don't think that we are going to find anything here and it will be dark soon."

After returning to the house, Kirra threw something together for dinner; a salad and cold chicken, much to Gawain's displeasure, but seeing she was still preoccupied he didn't complain, ate what she gave him and figured he would raid the refrigerator after she had retired for the night.

He looked up from his plate at one point and caught Kirra watching at him with an unreadable expression on her face. She wouldn't meet his eyes and instantly averted her gaze when he caught her staring. As he watched she pushed her food around and finally rose to dump it, uneaten into the trash. Something was definitely bothering her, she almost always finished her food.

Coming to stand near him, Kirra seemed to come to a decision and ordered, "Gawain, kiss me."

The knight looked up startled and uncertain he had heard her correctly, "What?"

Kirra studied him then repeated, "Kiss me."

"Why?" he asked, still in shock.

Large eyes grew dark and narrowed, "Call it an experiment. Could you handle that? If it was for science?" Her face flushed and Gawain knew by her tone of voice that she was annoyed -- or extremely embarrassed.

Not waiting for a third invitation, Gawain pulled her roughly into his lap and claimed her mouth. The moment his lips touched hers he knew he would unable to pull away after such a small taste. Like before, she was warm and soft and more then willing. He tightened his hold on her, roughly tangling his fingers in her hair, welding her to him and the world fell away. Fire pulsed through his blood and he felt he would rather die then let go of her. He wondered how it had been that he had ever wanted any other.

Kirra molded her smaller, softer body to Gawain's and clutched at his shirt. She saw stars and her body tingled in anticipation. Heat blossomed where she had never felt heat before and she felt herself feeling more alive then she ever had. She saw him in sharp, clear relief, while the rest of the world spun wildly out of control. He was her only anchor.

As Gawain reluctantly released her, he groaned and opened his eyes to see her staring at him. Her eyes had brightened to shining silver.

"Could it be that simple?" she murmured. Her small hands were pressed to his chest, the tip of her tongue wetting her lips. She was nervous.

Gawain brushed her hair back, "Could what be that simple?" he asked.

She looked up, deep in thought, "I'm not completely sure. Kiss me again."

Had she not been so serious, Gawain would have laughed out loud. But he stifled the urge and obliged her. This time it was soft and lingering, but the effect was the same; the world fell away and he felt the undeniable, primal need for ultimate possession. Kirra murmured something against his lips. She was warm and pliable in his arms, almost limp. He pulled back.

"What?"

Her eyes opened and were soft and misty, "I love you." She said in surprise at her own admission.

Gawain pushed her back, alarm written on his golden features, "No, you don't, Kirra. You have said it yourself, you don't know me."

She looked down at the tiled floor considering, then back up at him. Her eyes were steady, "Yes, I do. Enough, anyway to be able to say that and to know you feel the same way about me."

He shook his shaggy head and she touched his face, "Don't deny it. It's there; I've seen it in your eyes and heard it in your voice. You think I don't know the way you watch me, the reason you never touch me for long, but I do. I'm not wrong."

"It would never work, Kirra. _Never_," he stressed the word and tried to push her from him, but Kirra wouldn't let herself be budged. She was stronger then she looked.

"I have nothing to offer you. I cannot even freely give myself as I am not free to do so."

Kirra's eyes gleamed mischievously, "Then you admit it."

Gawain glared at her said nothing and Kirra correctly took his silence as agreement. Her smile widened and her heart pounded wildly.

"I cannot give you what you need," He reiterated.

Kirra let go of him and stepped back. He felt the loss of her at once. "How do you know what I need?" she asked severely.

He searched her face before answering, "Because it is what I need." he admitted reluctantly.

"Then it will work, Gawain." She took his hand and kissed his palm. "It has too. That's why you were sent, here, to me."

"Anyone could have been sent, Kirra, and the result would be the same."

"No," she denied, clearly hurt by his calculated remark, but unwilling to back down, "It would not be." She dropped his hand and looked at him. Sober. Certain. "I know it would not be the same and I refuse to let you believe that." Then she turned, "Think about it." She said over her shoulder as she practically danced up the stairs to her room feeling lighter then she had in months.

The knight watched her go before shoving himself to his feet and dumping the remains of his dinner. He spent most of the night pacing through the dark house, thinking.


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm back. Thank you all so much for your awesome reviews (I feel so loved tears)!!! **

**Enjoy and, as always, let me know what you think.**

**#14 The Key**

The next morning broke clear and lovely and Kirra lay in bed listening to the birds singing in the trees outside her window. It was going to be a good day. She got up and made her bed, humming and dancing a little as she did so but stopped when she felt an unfamiliar weight at her neck. Looking down she saw a silver key hanging on a delicate silver chain that hadn't been there when she went to sleep.

Silently, she padded across the hall to Gawain's room thinking that he would know why it was there. She tapped on the door and entered without waiting for a response. It was so early she was not surprised to find him still asleep and sprawled facedown across his bed -- clad in only a pair of jeans.

She fiddled with the charm as she debated whether to wake him or just enjoy the sight of his half naked body lying in such relaxed ease. Finally curiosity won out and Kirra crossed the room.

She perched herself gingerly at the edge of the bed and touched his shoulder lightly, "Gawain."

When the man didn't move and only mumbled incoherently, Kirra took a breath and tried again, "Gawain, wake up."

She was about to give up and leave to wait until later when he suddenly grabbed her and pulled her under him. Her squeak of surprise was cut short by his lips on hers. After a thorough plundering; hot, wet kisses stole her breath as his lips trailed along her jaw and down her throat.

Gawain was brought to full consciousness at Kirra's sharp gasp when one roaming hand brushed her breast. He pulled back so quickly and with such surprise that he lost his balance and tumbled to the floor with a thud. Kirra sat up wide-eyed and flushed. She was having trouble catching her breath and her cheeks were the most becoming shade of red.

"Kirra, what are you doing here?" He asked rubbing his shoulder and rising only enough to kneel at the bedside.

Kirra cleared her dry throat and leaned forward to touch a matching gold chain and key that had hung unnoticed around Gawain's neck. The muscle in his jaw rippled at her light touch and he had to suppress a groan. He avoided looking at her, realizing that she was still in the little she wore to sleep. It was maddening.

"This."

He swallowed and attempted to ignore the relentless fire in his blood. He needed a dunk in a cold lake. Now!

"What is it?" He asked trying to focus on what had brought her to his bed, without much luck. Her scent was everywhere, her taste was still in his mouth and he could still feel her silky skin under his hands. He clenched his hands into tight fists.

"I don't know, but I have one too." She fingered the silver chain at her neck and Gawain unwittingly followed its flow to the charm that hung between her breasts. His eyes jerked desperately back to hers as she continued speaking, "I thought that maybe you had put it there while I was sleeping, that's why I woke you." She apologized by way of explanation.

He shook his head stiffly, "I did not go to your room last night."

It would not have been the wisest thing to have entered the girl's room after the way she left him feeling. Indeed, after his pacing he had hardly slept and when he did his sleep was full of dreams of Kirra. Up until her small gasp had woken him, he had thought her just another of those dreams.

"May I see yours?" She asked interrupting his memory of waking up with her soft body pinned under his.

"My what?" His voice was less then steady and his eyes widened wildly.

Kirra seemed to really look at him for the first time since waking him, she narrowed her eyes and eased back off the bed, "I am going to go and let you get dressed. Meet me downstairs when you are ready."

Gawain nodded and she left, his eyes devouring her until she walked through the door and pulled it quietly closed. When she was gone his head slumped to the mattress and he groaned in frustration. Then he pulled himself to his feet and headed for the bathroom.

Kirra, thankfully, was dressed in a long sleeved shirt and baggy trousers when he finally came down stairs, slightly blue-lipped and still shivering from the shower. He was certain that he had used all the cold water the house had to provide. But it was no where near enough; heat still flooded through him as soon as he saw her. She was standing at the kitchen window staring out as she was apt to do and playing with the small charm. There was food on the table, so he sat, but did not tuck in.

She turned, impassive, "We need to see Niara."

"I agree."

She sat across from him, slipped her necklace off and held it out to him, "If I am not wrong, the two should fit together somehow." Her face broke into a grin that lightened her eyes. "It's pretty cheesy that they would actually use real keys to symbolize what we found."

"Cheesy?" Gawain echoed and avoided touching her skin as he took the proffered bauble.

"Yeah, it means something like silly," She explained as she filled her plate with French toast and drowned it in syrup.

She watched the knight as she ate noticing his less then normal coloring. It was apparent that he was extremely uncomfortable and Kirra found herself feeling slightly guilty at her enjoyment of his discomfort. At last the tables were turned, he had always seemed so confident and Kirra had been the one so unsure.

He pulled his own chain off and compared his gold key to Kirra's. She was right. The two fit together back to back to form one thicker key. They were simple pieces, not ornate, meant to be used not worn as an accessory.

"That's it," She said pointing to the fused keys with her fork her voice getting excited. "That is our way back. I forgot, I dreamed about it last night." Her voice became soft and distant as she revisited the dream, "'_the two become one_,'" it returned to normal. "It's the only way. I'm not sure where the door is, that's why we need Niara."

Gawain looked up from the keys. His blue eyes darkened and it was clear he was startled, the implications of such an undertaking whirled through his mind at an alarming rate. "You are certain?"

"I think," She thought, chewing slowly, then nodded in assurance, "Yes. Think back to what Niara said. The key to the whole undertaking was something that will save the world. The only thing that will do that," she paused and looked Gawain in the eyes, "is love. I can't heal without it and we can't go back without it. We will be stronger together then separate."

"Well then," His gaze dropped and he cleared his throat.

He had no idea how this was going to go over when he returned. What would his brothers say? Not only that, but his life was no life for a beautiful young woman. His world was so different from the one Kirra had been raised in; every day would pose a different threat. It was possible that she would be stripped of all her light and innocence.

And he was furious. Furious at the goddess for putting him in such a position, but there was nothing he could do to prevent this, he felt it in his heart and found, even with his feelings of fear concerning Kirra that he did not want to stop it.

She had been right, he loved her, had loved her since the first moment he'd seen her. She was all that he had hoped he would find in a woman -- just a little earlier then he expected. Something had been leading them to this point almost from the very beginning. He knew Kirra was right. He took a deep breath knowing instinctively what had to come next if they were to return.

"I guess you have to marry me."

Kirra pursed her lips, "Don't sound so excited or anything." she commented dryly as she folded her arms across her chest and leaned back in her chair. "I wouldn't have chosen to do it this way either. I always thought I would have a huge wedding in a beautiful church, with flowers, and candles, and my father walking me down the isle – and I was always older then twenty. But," She paused and waited for Gawain to look at her, "I did get one wish."

Gawain was miserable, "And that was?"

She smiled her mischievous smile, "I got my knight. You do have shining armor, though don't you, and a white horse? 'Cause if not, deal's off."

Gawain surprised himself by chuckling at her remark as suddenly the fear he had been feeling lifted and the tension left his back and shoulders. "Armor, yes, white horse, no. Drea is grey."

Kirra sighed melodramatically, "Well, one out of two isn't bad. I guess I'll get used to it." She took a hero sized bite of French toast, "You know you really blew that proposal," She said after swallowing. "And I fully intend to make you make up for it."

Looking across the table at the young woman sitting opposite him, Gawain knew he didn't deserve her. "I'll hold you to it." he said with a grin, finally feeling his appetite return.

---------------------

"I have absolutely no idea what to take," Kirra said staring at her closet in frustration. "I am afraid to take anything because who knows what will happen if I take something back that hasn't been invented and it totally rearranges the future."

Gawain was lounging on her bed, "Don't take anything. Niara provided for me, I'm sure she'll be prepared for you."

Kirra turned and looked around her room, her life. Everything she was, was in this room, in this place. She wondered if she would change when she didn't have anything of her own.

"What if they think I am crazy? Or a witch -- don't they burn witches?"

Gawain looked up, "Only the bad ones."

Kirra lost all color, "It was a hypothetical question, I didn't mean it. You think they might try to burn me?"

He shrugged unconcerned, "Not at first, but give them time."

She threw a shoe at him which he easily caught and tossed back. "I was being serious. I am sure even a caveman like you can see how that might not be such a good thing."

Gawain sat up and reached out to grasp her waist, dragging her to him. He settled her in his lap and chafed her arm with his big, warm hand, "Love," he chided gently, "No one is going to burn you. I would never let that happen.

Kirra nodded into his neck. It was easier not to let such thoughts bother her when she was safe in his strong arms, in this time, when it was okay if one chose to be a witch, but Gawain couldn't be there all the time. What would happen if he was gone and someone got it into their head that Kirra needed to be gotten rid of. She shuddered.

Gawain pushed her back, "Kirra, it will be fine. I promise you." He narrowed his eyes in thought, "Now what can we do to take your mind off such unpleasant thoughts?" a very pregnant pause filled the room, "I have an idea."

Kirra cocked her head suspiciously, she didn't like the way his eyes darkened as he eyed her. She eased back and suddenly sprinted for the door, laughing at his growl when she slammed the door in his face. She was quicker then he was but he had a longer stride and was able to take the stairs three at a time. She didn't get further then the living room, when he tackled her onto the couch, his hard weight pressing her down making sure she couldn't escape.

Kirra tossed her head – the only part of her she could freely move, "No, none of your ideas."

He gazed down at her in pretend hurt, "But you haven't even heard any."

Kirra struggled futilely, "I don't need to. You have me pinned; nothing good can come of that."

He cocked an eyebrow, "I disagree. A lot of good things can come from that." His eyes sparkled as he lowered his head.

"Gawain," Kirra's breath came in a little gasp, her heart pounded in sudden anticipation and she fell still. She squealed when he suddenly dropped his head lower and rubbed his bearded face into her soft neck. "Stop, stop." She begged between bouts of shrieking laughter.

Finn came in to investigate the noise and plopped himself down to watch with a bemused expression. Kirra saw him as she struggled to get away from tickling hands and a scratchy face.

"Get him, Finn!" she exclaimed. The big dog's tail wagged when he heard his name, but he just sat where he was. "Fi-inn, get him!"

Not understanding Kirra's command, but caught up in sudden excitement Finn jumped to his feet, barking loudly and raced out of the room, only to reappear and run out again. The sound of dog claws scrabbling for purchase on a wooden floor followed by the crash of something heavy caused Gawain to abruptly stop in his assault and Kirra to stop her shrieking.

Finn entered the room, quietly this time, with his tail tucked between his legs. Gawain laughed at his expression and Kirra used the knight's momentary distraction to heave him onto the floor. It would have worked had he not involuntarily grabbed her as he fell and pulled her on top of him. Once again Kirra found herself struggling in vain.

"Whoa wild one," he gasped, "Careful where you're kicking."

Kirra's eyes grew round and she stopped fighting, "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Gawain suddenly grinned, "No." he brought his hands around and pulled her face to his kissing her as he rolled to his side.

Kirra was breathless and gasping when he finally let her up for air. Her lips were swollen, face was flushed and her neck was red from beard burn, but her eyes sparkled.

"I told you I had a good idea." Gawain murmured to her as he brushed her wild hair from her face. "Should we go see what the dog destroyed?"

"Shoot," Kirra said sitting up. "I forgot about that."

Gawain propped himself up on his elbow, "I told you I could help you forget unpleasant things."

She smacked him, "Yeah, and cause Finn to break stuff."

"That was you. You told him to get me – what if he had listened? He could have hurt me." Gawain's voice was full of self-righteous indignation.

"Only your pride."

He rolled his eyes as he had seen Kirra do and shook his head, "It's all the same."

Kirra laughed and got to her feet. Turns out Finn had only slid into the sofa table in the family room, knocking it over and scattering the picture frames that adorned it.

"Why the frown, Kirra?" Gawain asked later as they were eating lunch.

Kirra had hardly touched her food. Each bite turned to ash in her mouth and stuck in her throat. She looked up, eyes dark.

"I have to call my mom and I don't know what to say or even if I can."

Gawain frowned and swallowed a large bite of his hamburger, "Do you think that is a good idea?"

Kirra shrugged and refocused on her lunch – well, painting little pictures in her ketchup with her fries, "Probably not, but they would never get here in time and by the time they did get back, it would be too late. But I have to hear her voice one last time and tell her I love her." She looked up, "I have to."

Gawain reached across the table and took a handful of Kirra's fries, "Well, if it will make you feel better, then do it and get it over with. I'll be right here if you need a shoulder to cry on – or a body."

Kirra forced a weak smile. She sighed and shifted in her seat, drawing her knees up and hugging them to her chest. She wasn't sure she had it in her to talk to Lil again. No doubt the 'mom sense' would go off and Lil would know that something wasn't right.

"Kirra,"

She looked up. Gawain was staring at her, his eyes deep blue and very serious. He put his forearms on the table and leaned towards her.

"We all have things that we have to do in this life. Things that we may have no desire to do, but find ourselves in a position that we must. That is when we take a deep breath, force back our emotion, and jump into the fray leaving what comes after to fate. It's not neat, it's not pleasant, but if it has to be done, then do it and move forward."

Kirra blinked, squared her shoulders and left the room without another word. She found Gawain in the family room watching TV an hour later and burst into noisy, shivering sobs.

He pulled her into his arms and sat letting her tears soak his clothing, until she finally cried herself to sleep. Then he held her close and whispered of good things, hoping they would find their way into her dreams and warm her sleep.


	15. Chapter 15

**#15 Solemn Occasions**

It was nearly dark when Kirra and Gawain made it to Niara's cottage. The day following Kirra's last conversation with her mother had passed quickly and the ride had gone even faster then that. They settled the horses in the small shed, as comfortably as possible with two animals inside and approached the house. The windows were dark and Finn pressed himself against Kirra's leg and whined.

"It's all right, baby," Kirra said absently as she rubbed one of the dog's ears, comforting both of them. "I don't think she's here," She said looking over at Gawain.

He had the same idea and left her to do a quick circuit of the perimeter of the small house. "All the windows are dark and the garden is thick with weeds." He said when he returned, "It does not appear anyone has been here for quite sometime."

Kirra chewed her lip as she fished the key from its hiding place in the eaves near the door, "She has to be here. Niara?" She called as she entered the small cottage.

But the Fate was still away on business, or whatever it was that they did when they left those that needed them. Because of the storms, the house was cold and damp inside. Kirra shivered at the musty, abandoned smell. Gawain followed closely and chafed her arms to warm them when he noticed her shiver.

"She's not here," Kirra stated, angrily. "I really thought that she would be here. I mean, we know what the key is. We have them. Now we only need her to help us find the door."

Gawain stepped around the frustrated woman, "It is late. Let us sleep here tonight and figure out what to do in the morning. I will take the room I was in before, unless ..." He looked hopefully down at Kirra.

She rolled her eyes and pushed at him, "Just go to bed." She said laughing.

Then she walked down the hall, still slightly miffed that Niara would be absent from her home, to her room. When she got there, she found it was warm and glowing with the light of many different sized white candles. The soft smell of jasmine wafted on the air and Kirra gasped when she saw the exquisite white dress that was laid over her bed.

It was simple in design, just as she would have asked it to be. It was layered with a longer sleeved, pale lavender chemise underneath, adding the perfect hint of color. Threads of the same pale shade made up the intricate embroidery that flowed and tumbled down the deep, softly rounded neck-line and across the hems at both arm and skirt. Examining the small, fine stitches, Kirra noticed that creeping vines wove in and out of the ever changing phases of the moon. It was extremely delicate and could only be read if one looked carefully.

She crossed the creaking wood floor to touch the fine linen cloth and pulled the dress up to her. Looking in the mirror, it seemed that it had been made just for her and the thought was proven right when Niara suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Ah," she breathed softly. "So it suits you, does it?"

Kirra turned and blinked away the misty tears that threatened to fall, "It does. How did you know?"

Niara smiled, "I know many things, my dearest one. Now let's try it on and see if I got the measurements correct." She stepped into the room at Kirra's eager nod and silently closed the door.

As the Fate helped her young charge change into her wedding gown, she told of where she had been during the weeks it had taken to figure out what exactly she had meant at their last meeting.

"Did you know the whole time what the 'key' was, Niara?" Kirra finally asked.

"I did."

"So why not tell us?"

Niara smiled mischievously, "Wasn't it more fun to find out on your own? Besides, you would never have believed me and fought it to the last had I said anything." She paused and twisted a plait of Kirra's hair into place and fastened it with a silver pin, "And it was a gift, to you, to him. Small as it was."

Kirra turned and faced the Fate, "It's not small, Niara. It is great and more then I ever hoped for. He and the idea of a future with him make it easier to leave." She grasped the old woman's hand tightly, eyes darkening in sudden seriousness, "Just promise me something."

"What, my dear?"

"Promise me that he will not be killed."

Niara sighed heavily, "I am not sure if I can, Kirra."

Kirra tightened her hold, "Promise me, Niara. That is the only way I can go through with this. If he dies, it's not worth it. I will not survive his death."

There was something soft and resolute in Kirra's words that caused the Fate to believe her implicitly. Niara grew still and silent for a few moments then touched Kirra's hair softly, "Then I will promise you, my dear, that your man will not die but live to a ripe old age."

Kirra's eyes narrowed, "You swear to me, Fate, by my blood." She moved to take up her little silver knife and slash her palm.

Niara smiled and stayed the girl's hand, "No need for that, but yes. You have my word -- which is the word of the goddess."

Kirra's sharp expression didn't soften, "I don't know about her, but I trust _you_. Thank you, Niara."

The Fate stroked Kirra's cheek, "No, thank you child. Now, shall we finish with your hair? I think your groom is becoming antsy."

Kirra laughed when the sounds of Gawain's pacing in front of her door could be heard. Finally, he knocked and entered, his jaw dropping at the sight of Kirra dressed in her white dress. It was the first time he had seen her in such clothing and it suited her.

It would seem Niara had prepared for him too because his clothes were different and closer in design to what he been wearing when they found him. They flattered him much more then t-shirts, shorts, and jeans ever had.

Niara finished putting the final bell-like flower in Kirra's hair, which had been intricately twisted and woven. The silver pins holding the heavy mass in place caught the candle light and glimmered like small diamonds in her dark hair. Kirra's eyes glowed and her cheeks were pink. In the flickering light she looked to be the human reincarnation of a moon beam; a study of light and dark and innocent energy.

"You like it?" She asked twirling in a circle as she slipped toward him

"You are beautiful." He said softly, pressing her hand, wanting to crush her to him, but mindful of her dress and the old woman, who was not a woman, watching him. So he contented himself with a brief but fervent kiss.

"Well, my dears, the night grows older, shall we start?" Niara asked with a chuckle aimed at Gawain's reticence.

--------------------------

The moon shone down, full and bright, on the bower Niara had caused to be erected. It was strewn with hundreds of the same small, white flowers that Kirra wore in her hair. Their soft fragrance filled the air. Candles danced in the night air, cheerfully beating back the dark and the world seemed for a time to pause in its nightly rotation.

Niara was dressed in a gown of midnight blue and looked more a part of the night then she did a woman. She stopped and turned when she reached the head of the bowery and took one of Kirra's hands and one of Gawain's hands in her deceptively gnarled and old ones.

"Do you both come here of your own free will?" She asked eyeing the young couple. She could feel that although Gawain truly loved Kirra, he had serious misgivings. She smiled reassuringly at the young man when he nodded soberly. He managed a small smile.

"Good," She placed Kirra's small, soft hand in Gawain's much larger one. "Here, you will be bound to one another, for as long as you are faithful to the promises you make. Life as one is not an easy thing, but through love and," she smiled, "at times tolerance, you will be able to weather anything that comes your way."

Gawain looked down on Kirra; she was unwittingly gripping his hand hard enough that her knuckles were white. Her other hand was fisted and he realized that she was just as nervous as he, if not more so. She calmed when he began to gently stroke the back of her hand with his thumb and she loosened her death grip and smiled apologetically.

"Gawain," Niara started and the knight once again turned his attention to the Fate. "Do you here take Kirra to love and cherish and protect until such time as the goddess sees fit to take her?"

A peace stole over Gawain at her words and he didn't hesitate, "Yes."

Niara smiled and turned to Kirra, "My dearest, Kirra," She touched the girl's cheek lovingly, "do you here take Gawain to love and cherish and protect until such time as the goddess sees fit to take him?"

Kirra frowned at the last words and she was silent for a moment of time as if turning them over in her head. This was the step into the darkness that she had always feared, not that she wasn't so excited she could hardly breathe, but this was the real thing and she suddenly felt so young. She looked up at Gawain standing patiently in the cool light of the moon, watching her, and knew her heart. She never looked away from him as she steadily echoed his answer.

"Yes."

They missed Niara's near laugh of relief as she bound their hands together with a thin length of braided horse-hair in the tradition of their people, in symbol of their commitment to one another.

"Then at this uniting of tribes, I bless you with the courage of the Horse, the fierce loyalty of the Wolf, and with the blessing of the goddess, grant you the wisdom of the Eagle." The Fate's voice rang in the night as she finished the ceremony. "It is done."

And it was. In their souls, Kirra and her knight felt the binding Niara had wrought. The night was still as it waited with hushed breath as the two embraced and shared their first sweet kiss as one.

-----------------------

When they had composed themselves, Niara led the couple not back to the cottage, but to a tall, narrow door at the back of the little shed that housed Fate and Jin. It was one that Kirra never noticed before.

"This is the final door that will take you back." The Fate announced. "Only together will your keys open it and allow you passage. Only together may you cross its threshold. You may take the horses and Finn with you. Fate, you will ride and Jin has agreed to carry your things."

Kirra opened her mouth, but was interrupted when Niara smiled.

"I have, my dear, taken the liberty of preparing everything that you will need -- clothing and the like. As well as a few other things you will find useful."

Kirra beamed as any woman would at the mention of new things.

"When do we go back?" Gawain asked.

Niara gestured, "Whenever you like. You may stay in the cottage for as long as you like, but the moment that you enter it tonight, it will become a limbo -- simply an indeterminate place of waiting. You will be safe there, but will not progress. I would council you to leave directly."

Gawain turned that over, then asked, "Where will we come out?"

"You will be an approximate three day ride from the Wall. You will recognize the place, Gawain." Niara said.

"Wall?" Kirra asked as she glanced up at Gawain.

Gawain answered her before Niara could, "Hadrian's Wall -- our home away from home." He added sardonically, then addressed the Fate, suddenly more serious then Kirra had ever seen him, "That is too far, Niara. We will be intercepted before we can reach the safety of the fort." He glanced down at Kirra, anxiety creasing his brow.

Kirra wasn't too keen on the word _intercepted_. Intercepted by what? But there was no time now for her question as Niara was speaking again. She would have to wait.

"Oh no, my dears, you will be under the protection of the goddess for three full days after you return. Time enough to reach safety. No enemy will be able to see you, much less harm you. But you only have three days." She carefully explained so neither would forget.

Gawain must have been satisfied with her answer for he said nothing more as the Fate led them through the dark and back to the little house. This time the windows shone with warmth and cheer.

"Well," said Niara when they reached the porch. "As with the beginning, this is where I leave you. You will have whatever you need inside." Her eyes sparkled as she reached out to Kirra and drew her into her arms. The girl's eyes were moist.

"Will we ever see you again?" Kirra asked in a quivering voice as she clung to her last real link to the only home she remembered.

"Oh, dearest," The Fate wrapped her in love. "I will look in on you from time to time and," she pulled away, "should you ever need me, you will be able to call to me." She stepped back and took one last look at the couple before her, it would be the last time she would see them for a long while. "Take care of one another. Oh, and, I almost forgot, I was asked to give this to you Gawain." She held out a small leather pouch and smiled at the bewildered man as he opened it and stood looking into it with stunned expression.

"She said it was promised to you long ago."

Kirra looked at Gawain in curiosity as he gripped the little bag and said gruffly, "Thank you."

The Fate nodded, "Now go in before you get cold. Good-bye, my dears." And with that the Fate was suddenly gone.

Kirra gasped and fell back against Gawain in surprise, one second the woman had been standing in front of them and the next second she had just disappeared. She glanced up at Gawain whose expression of astonishment matched her own.

"Well," he said squeezing Kirra's shoulders, "I never was one for long good-byes." He kissed the top of her head, "Shall we go in."

Kirra froze like a hunted animal and looked at the cottage then back at Gawain. His eyes were soft now, but sharp at the same time and his hands at her shoulders were gentle and firm. Now that they were alone and everything was different, Kirra realized that she was terrified. Not of Gawain, not of begin alone with him, they had been alone together for the past several weeks, but she was afraid of what came next -- what she knew was expected of her.

Now, Kirra was not naïve, she knew what happened between men and women; it was on TV everyday, in books, and movies. She had been learning about it since the sixth grade, in some rudimentary form or the other. She and Shay had spoken of it in depth, well as far as their innocent knowledge of it was concerned. They had giggled over it. But now it came down to the moment, Kirra found that she wanted nothing more then to run screaming into the night and find a tight hiding place far, far away from anything male.

Gawain noticed her suddenly pale face and wide eyes, "Kirra, are you all right?"

Kirra was unable to get her throat to work and slowly begin to back away. Everything had happened so quickly. She felt as if her life was no longer her own, that she was no longer who she was even hours ago when they had entered Niara's for the first time in weeks.

"I … I don't …"

Slowly, steadily Gawain neared his trembling young wife. He didn't make any move to touch her and stopped far enough away so that she would not feel threatened or trapped. He correctly guessed the reason for her sudden trepidation.

"Everything will be all right. You have nothing to fear from me, Kirra. I will not make you do anything that you are not ready for." He deliberately kept his voice soft and its familiarity eased the nervous pounding of Kirra's heart and he saw the tension in her shoulders ease somewhat.

Kirra looked down, cheeks and ears pink with embarrassment, "I'm sorry, it's just that … just that everything has happened so fast and I don't feel like I can keep up with it." Her words came slowly then finished in a breathless rush.

Gawain nodded. He still made no move to touch her, "That is easy to understand. I feel it to some extent myself. I have to return shortly to my brothers and my commander after a long absence and try explain what I have been doing and where I have been. Not to mention the difficulties your presence will pose."

Kirra looked up, the hurt evident in her eyes. He sighed, unsure if he would ever get the role of husband down, and finally gathered her stiff form to him. "You know I did not mean it the way it sounded."

"I know and I know it will be difficult for you." Kirra said as she relaxed further and rested her forehead against his chest, taking in the clean scent of him. He was warm and solid and standing so close to him, she had a hard time remembering why she had been so frightened.

Gawain took a moment to relish the feeling of her small body in his arms and legally so, "Come inside, it will do you good to eat something."

Kirra drew back, eyebrows raised, "Me?" she asked in amusement. "I believe you are the bottomless pit here."

Gawain shrugged unconcernedly, "Fine, it will do me good to eat something, while you make up your mind about me."

"You," Kirra said slipping her hand into his and intertwining their fingers, "I made up my mind about a long time ago. It's me, I am uncertain of."

"You will find yourself, of that I am sure," Gawain said confidently, taking advantage of her momentary calm to usher her inside.

The house was warm and good smells drifted from the kitchen. Gawain made to lead Kirra in that direction when she tugged on his arm to stop him.

"Wait."

Turning he gave her a quizzical look. Her eyes were wide and over bright as if she were about to cry and Gawain saw a bit of her fear from before, but just a bit.

"What is it, love?" he asked gently, brushing a dark tendril out of her eyes.

"I … I …" Kirra took a deep breath and her eyes sharpened in determination. She rose up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Gawain's stunned lips. It was soft and hesitant, everything it should be from a nervous young girl on her wedding night and it sent a pleasant shiver through his body.

He tightened his hold on her and kissed her until she was limp and breathless. He smiled at the small mew of protest she made when he finally let go and he had to keep his hands on her hips to steady her.

"I have something for you," he said once Kirra had opened her eyes, which were soft and shining, "It is the custom of the men of my tribe to give their wife a gift on their wedding night."

"But I have nothing for you." Kirra said, her ears turning pink. She was embarrassed that she hadn't even thought of it.

"Little one," he chuckled, "you _are_ the gift. But this is what I have for you."

He opened the little bag that Niara had given him prior to her disappearing and pulled out a small wide-banded silver ring. "It has been in my family for generations. My grandmother promised it to me when I married," He paused and grinned, "I always was her favorite." He placed the ring on Kirra's right forefinger, where not surprisingly it fit perfectly.

"It's beautiful." Kirra breathed as she examined it.

The ring did not look as old as Gawain claimed it to be. It shone and shimmered in the light as if it possessed some inner light of its own. It was engraved all the way around with running horses – _the courage of the Horse_.

It seemed as if the gift of the ring had in some way changed Kirra, for she went from being frightened child to a certain woman in the span of mere moments. She took her husband by the hand and led him to the room they would be sharing for the night. It was the one she had always stayed in and it still glowed with the light of the many flickering candles.

Turning after she had closed the door she advanced on him, slowly and with such grace she hardly seemed to be walking, but floating. Her eyes darkened dramatically as she pulled the tiny pins from her hair and let it tumble in dark waves down her back.

Gawain couldn't take his eyes off her and when she touched his chest, his heart nearly stopped at her closeness. He cupped her face in his hands and haltingly told her she was the loveliest thing he had ever before seen. To which Kirra laughed a low laugh and tossed her head.

"Help me out of this, will you?" she asked turning so that he could loosen the ties of her dress.

Gawain pushed the heavy fall of her hair out of the way and unable to help himself, nibbled at her neck, eliciting a small gasp. It was that small sound that undid him and soon both he and Kirra were deeply lost in one another.


	16. Chapter 16

**Here are your two chapters, Winther Rose. Enjoy!**

**#16 Back**

Gawain woke earlier then normal, warm and more rested then he had been in years. His concerns for the next few days melted at his first sight of still, pale skin resting beside him. Gently he ran the back of one finger down Kirra's arm, reveling in the softness of her. She was truly the best thing to happen to him in the whole of his life. She sighed in her sleep and burrowed in closer to him, then stilled and Gawain lay back listening to her steady, even breathing.

The sun would be fully raised soon; he could hear the first of the birds twittering in the trees. How wonderful would it be to just stay there in that moment for forever, warm, safe, his woman at his side? But even as Gawain thought that, he knew he couldn't have that just yet. There were those that needed him, and Kirra. He rolled to his side and pressed his lips to her shoulder.

"Hmm?" she asked in a sleep heavy sigh.

"It's morning, love. We should be up and leaving soon." He whispered against the satin of her skin.

Heavy dark lashes lifted slowly to reveal two sleep darkened eyes. It took a moment before Kirra came fully awake and Gawain knew he could spend an eternity just watching her wake. Her grey eyes lightened and a slow drowsy smile gave her a siren's alluring visage. Gawain's' heart almost stopped.

He lowered his head to kiss her lips, whispering, "Oh, what your brother is going to do to me."

"Why would he want to do anything to you?" she asked quizzically.

Gawain searched her face before replying, "I took your innocence and it has been replaced with something -- I am not sure what, but you look different this morning then you did last night."

Kirra stretched luxuriously and rubbed against him much as a cat might, "I have no idea what you are talking about." She said with an impish smile.

He shook his head, "I am sure you do not." He replied wryly, ignoring the sudden forceful wakening of his body.

Kirra sat up, her hair draping about her shoulders like a dark shawl, "Besides, I saw no taking last night." She looked over her shoulder at him, enjoying the sight of his strong golden body, "Only giving."

Gawain pushed her hair aside giving himself a tempting view of her back and ran one finger down her spine causing her to shiver and giggle, "I am not exactly sure he will see it that way." He said as he thoughtfully traced the marking on her left shoulder blade.

It was the same symbol as the one on her wrist, just a bit larger and it faced out and the night before he had seen two others on the inside of her narrow hips. Crescents also and facing one another as if cradling her womb. He wondered what they meant and where she had gotten them.

A shadow crossed Kirra's face, "Well, he had better. I am sure that he is no spring rose himself."

Gawain laughed out loud in spite of himself, "That will hardly matter, wild one, you are his infant sister. If the roles were reversed, I would seek to make sure that he was incapable of ever pleasing another woman as long as he lived."

"Well," Kirra said as she plaited her hair, "It is a good thing that you are not my brother then, because if that were the case I would have to make the remainder of your existence as miserable as womanly possible." She grew thoughtful, "I think I could be good at that."

"With that evil expression on your face, I would have to agree. Let's try not to ever turn it on me, alright."

Kirra tossed her braid over her shoulder, "And what if you should deserve it?"

"I think there is little I could ever do to deserve that particular look."

"We'll see," She stated a bit too unpromising.

Gawain tugged on her thick braid, "Oh, come here and quit thinking of evil things to punish me with. Are you quite certain you want to leave today?"

"You were the one who woke me, remember?"

"Aye, but I just wanted to make absolutely sure and who's to say I woke you with only that purpose in mind?" He insistently tugged again on the heavy hank of hair.

"Right now, I'm not sure that was in your mind at all."

"Oh, it was," Gawain said, pulling her down to him, "But this is a very pleasant after-thought."

Kirra's laugh was smothered by a several long kisses.

-----------------

They left later that afternoon with Kirra reluctantly putting her toothbrush down after a marathon teeth cleaning.

"Oh, come now, you look as if someone killed your dog," Gawain said laughing as he watched her through the mirror.

Kirra scowled, "It is the last time I will ever be able to properly brush my teeth and excuse me if I do not relish the idea of going to whoever it is that you go to, to have a tooth knocked out." She looked in the mirror and bared her straight, white teeth, "Three years of braces, two of retainers, down the drain." She sighed wistfully. "You had better appreciate what I am giving up for you, buddy."

"I do." He replied seriously. "Now that I have been here I understand the difficulty you will have. You are very strong, Kirra."

Her eyes narrowed, "I hope I am half as strong as you think I am."

Gawain hugged Kirra close. She smelled so good he couldn't resist a little nibble. She shivered and pushed at him.

"You start that again, we'll never leave."

He gave her a pained look, "Kirra, soon we won't have any privacy."

Kirra's smile slipped and she worried her lower lip. She hadn't thought of that, "What exactly will we tell the others?"

Gawain leaned against the door, "It would probably be best if we didn't mention anything about the marriage."

Kirra made a face, "But then they'll all think …" she shifted uncomfortably as she searched for the right words.

"That you're my lover?" Gawain supplied with a small smile.

Kirra sighed, "Yeah."

"Don't look so downhearted about it," Gawain said, laughing at her despondent tone.

She gave a little shiver, "That just sounds so … dirty."

Gawain placed a finger under her chin and forced her to look up at him, "We know the truth."

Kirra nodded as best she could with her face being held hostage, "Where are we going to stay?"

Gawain dropped his hand. He had been thinking about that too. With Kirra being unused to the time and so innocent, it would be dangerous for her to be out of the sight of one of the knights at all times. He would feel better if she could stay with him, but ultimately the decision would up to Arthur.

He shook his head grimly, "I know only for certain that I will be in the barracks."

Kirra's eyes narrowed, "And where will I be?"

"Hopefully there, with me, but," he shook his head, "it will be up to Arthur. I think if I talk to him and explain as much as I can, you will be able to stay with me, but we will have to wait and see. It will be easier if we can set you up as our healer. Then you will have reason to stay close to us. Hopefully, the goddess will be with us or Arthur's god – whoever helps."

Kirra nodded, unhappy with leaving her fate in the hands of a Roman, even if Gawain said he was a good guy.

"Let's not worry about it until we have right to, alright?" Gawain said as he rubbed her cheek.

"'kay. Are you finished loading our, well, my things?" Kirra said, abruptly changing the subject.

"Yes and from the way Jin is glaring at me now, you would think I was trying to ride her. Niara prepared a lot of things for you."

Kirra ducked around him, "Well, I have never known a woman who traveled light and seeing as I won't have anything, I think I'm entitled every last shift and chemise."

"If you say so," Gawain chuckled, following her out of the cottage.

"It looks as if you half packed the poor thing with food, you dork." Kirra said when she caught sight of Jin, fairly groaning under her burdens.

Gawain shrugged unapologetically, "Well, I'll never get some of it again. You have clothes and I have food – we're even."

Kirra rolled her eyes and laughed, "Yeah, yeah. Let me have your key."

Gawain slipped the gold chain from around his neck and handed it to his wife – wife. He paused a moment to let that sink in as Kirra fit the two keys together and pushed them into the keyhole in the narrow door.

She glanced over her shoulder and took a deep breath, "You ready?" Her palms were sweaty and her heart pounded in her ears.

Gawain tightened his hold on the horses and Finn's lead and nodded. Who knew what would happen when Kirra opened that door. He hoped it wouldn't spook the horses, though he was sure Jin at least wouldn't be getting far.

Kirra turned back to the door and turned the key until she heard the lock click open. She pulled the key out and hung it around her neck before pushing the door open. Nothing happened; the only thing that could be heard was the singing of birds and the babble of a nearby stream.

"Well, that has to be a different place, because there is no stream near Niara's house," Kirra said breathlessly. She gathered all of her courage and, closing her eyes, stepped into the past.

-----------------------

From the shadows, Gareth watched with narrowed eyes as his brother rose, pulled on his clothes and began to stir up the banked fire. He was about to leave his place and 'surprise' Gawain -- more likely beat him to a indistinguishable puddle of bloody ooze -- when Gawain tossed a handful of pebbles at his pile of blankets.

Gareth drew back further into the shadows and hissed at Galahad when it moved and a tousled dark head appeared. His friend peered around through the brush he was crouched under as a small woman rose with the blankets gathered around her, bare shoulders exposed and the two spying knights exchanged an expression of angry exasperation.

They had been searching for Gawain's remains since that last battle with no luck. This was the last time they were able to obtain Arthur's permission to come out and that was only because Gareth had been near useless ever since his brother's disappearance. He blamed himself for not watching Gawain's back more carefully, and as time drew on and not even a scrap had been found, the normally jovial knight had become more and more sullen and non-communicative.

Now he was drinking more then he should and taking far too many risks. He was becoming a danger to himself and the others and frankly, Arthur and the rest of the knights -- including his closest friend, were sick of it. He had to find some evidence of Gawain, no matter how small, just something to be able to move on with his life. He felt he would have known if Gawain were truly dead and yet he felt as he always had, that his brother was fine and playing some joke on him. And now it seemed that Gawain had been.

Never had Gareth intended to find a whole living body, but it would seem that while the he and the others had been worrying and mourning his loss, Gawain had been taking a vacation and sporting with a woman. Arthur and the other knights were going to immensely enjoy learning of his whereabouts – and the beatings that would come after. With vindictive viciousness, Gareth hoped he would be allowed to participate, or at the least, watch.

He and Galahad watched with narrowed eyes as the young woman approached Gawain and kicked dirt at him in retaliation of the pebbles. Tripping on the blankets that wound about her legs, she fell as she attempted to escape Gawain's lunge at her. He pinned her arms to her sides and rubbed his bearded face into her soft bare neck until she was laughing and yelling for him to stop. He did so with a resounding kiss on her lips. She sat up and smacked him on the shoulder.

The knights looked at each other and thought about averting their eyes as the young woman, having found her clothes, dropped the blanket and dressed, but a marking on her bare shoulder caught their attention. They were too far away to make out what the symbol was, but it seemed to shimmer in her skin, rather like iridescent metal in the sun. But as she moved and the mark was shadowed it appeared to be nothing more then just a simple tribal marking.

Galahad pointed out in hushed tones that she had another on the inside of her left wrist and then two more on the inside of her hips that seemed to have the same properties. They were very interesting markings and the two men were curious as to what they meant.

Gareth groaned and swore softly when the girl called Gawain over to help with the lacings in the back of her dress and he whispered something in her ear to which she thought about for a moment. Gawain nudged her after a time and she laughed and turned back into his arms.

The disgusted knights exchanged an angry look and skulked further back into the trees as the couple in the clearing began to kiss and pull at the other's clothing in the wild abandonment of all lovers. Their retreat continued until they could no longer hear the desperate sounds of need and desire floating on the air, which, to their annoyance, turned out to be quite a ways off. Only when the scent of something cooking wafted to them on the breeze did they decide it was safe to return to their vigil.

Back at the camp, Gawain was stirring something in a pot that hung over the fire and the young woman was grooming a strange little horse. Another, a beautiful black creature, stood grazing on the sweet meadow grass nearby.

To Gareth and Galahad's intense delight, both Gawain and his woman were clothed, but the woman paused in her grooming when she felt their unfamiliar gaze and looked around uneasily. Her concentration was broken only when Gawain called to her.

"Kirra, did you add something to these oats?"

She didn't turn but continued in her grooming, "Yes. I was trying to help them taste better."

"They tasted fine. What did you add?" Gawain frowned at the contents of the pot.

She grinned at him showing her teeth, it was wolfish and humorless, and somehow strikingly familiar, "You know, a little of this and a lot of that."

But Gawain was irritated, "Stop it!" he ordered sharply. "Fool with your own breakfast if you like, but leave mine be."

"How do you know you won't like it?" Kirra asked him in a sing-song voice, "You weren't about to try brown sugar and cinnamon," -- the watching men frowned at each other at the unfamiliar words-- "on them either, but then found out they were perfect that way."

"Well, when you find your brown sugar and cinnamon let me know, in the mean time hands off my food, woman."

She came around the horse to glare at him, her hands on her slender hips, eyes glinting dangerously, "I'll remember that tonight when _you_ are making dinner."

Gawain gave her a little devious smile, "Come on Kirra, you know you will not allow me to prepare dinner. Remember the first night?"

Apparently she did, because she grimaced, the knights did also. Gawain was the worst cook out of them all. They would rather go hungry then eat anything prepared by him. It was a mystery to everyone just what the man did to ruin everything so completely, but he did it. Secretly, it was thought Gawain did it with the intention of getting out of cooking duty.

Kirra surprised the men when she voiced that same thought, "I think that you did it on purpose, just so you wouldn't have to do any more cooking."

Gawain chuckled, "Maybe." And he held a bowl of the cooked oats out to her, which she accepted.

Gareth and Galahad spent the rest of the day watching and waiting for the right opportunity to make their presence known, preferably sometime when the woman was not around, but she didn't seem too interested in being out of sight of the camp. Gareth grew angrier and angrier as the day progressed. It was only Galahad who kept him from throwing some sharply pointed object at his brother's back.

It was curious to Galahad that the couple in the camp was so relaxed. Gawain had only his dagger with him; after the battle where Gawain had vanished, the knights had found his discarded axe and sword. The woman had a small silver dagger and a bow, but that was all. What was it that made them so relaxed?

When he stopped to think about it, Galahad noticed the whole camp seemed to be covered in a bubble of peace and safety; it drew him in with it and he found himself growing lax, even his anger seemed to ebb. Only Gareth seemed impervious to it -- his fury growing by the moment.

The only incident happened after the midday meal when Gawain dozed off with his head in the young woman's lap and she took advantage of his sleep to comb out his hair and plait it into small braids which she then wound about his head, securing and twisting the ends under so that they were hidden.

As if that were not embarrassment enough, she then began to weave leaves and grasses into the braids. When her work was done she grinned down at his sleeping form, evidently pleased with herself, gently eased his head from her lap and called her dog.

She and the great brute of a dog -- which had yet to alert her to the watching knight's presence, _some watch dog_, Gareth thought wryly, began to play. She would throw a small leather ball stuffed with feathers as far as she could and he would bring it back.

Once she even threw the ball close to where the men were hidden behind in the trees. They held their breath, but the dog just wagged his tail once and ignored them, anxious only to return the ball for another throw.

Their game continued until an indignant yell was heard from the camp. The young woman startled and the dog looked back his great tail wagging.

"Kirra, what did you do to me?" Gawain said stomping over to her. The leaves and grasses that Kirra had woven into his hair had formed a crown of sorts and Gawain was pulling here and there, trying to find the end to unravel the mess.

"Hello Lady Liberty," Kirra trumpeted as she doubled over in hysterics. Great tears rolled down her face, "Y-y-y-you lo-o-ok rid-d-d-diculous."

She was laughing so hard that she couldn't even begin to try and help or get away from the frustrated man. She fell to her knees in a fit of helpless mirth. Holding her stomach and turning purple from lack of oxygen. Even Gareth found himself chuckling at the sight of Gawain's new hair-do. The girl would definitely keep his brother on his toes.

Gawain's eyes glittered, "Oh, you think this is funny?"

She could only nod helplessly as she rocked back and forth in laughter. He picked her up and carried her towards the stream. She stopped laughing the moment she realized where he was going and clung to him like a little cat.

"Gawain," She shrieked. "Don't you dare --"

But her warning came too late and he dropped her on her rear in the stream.

Spluttering she lunged at him, but tripped on her heavy wet skirt and fell, soaking herself completely. Gawain guffawed and slapped his knee. That had turned out even better then he had expected. Kirra sat for a moment, thinking, before slapping the water and hitting him with a small wave. Gawain, water dripping from his face, just continued laughing and reached down to help her up.

Kirra was piqued, "I cannot believe that you just did that." She flipped wet hair out of her eyes and Galahad noticed that for all her furious tone, her eyes were sparkling, "Do you know how long it will take for this dress to dry? If it ever does in this damp weather."

"I just thought that you needed a little cooling off. I will make you an agreement," Gawain eyed her slyly. "You help me unravel this mess and I help you out of that dress."

Gareth shook his head as Kirra snorted, "Unlikely. I think that you should have to wear that until we get back to the Wall and," -- she put her hands on her hips -- "I don't need any help with my dress, thank you."

And gathering her last vestiges of dignity, Kirra climbed out of the stream and sashayed back to camp, leaving a trail of river water through the dirt of the forest floor. Gawain just laughed and followed her with a hungry look in his eye.

Kirra finally took Gawain's hair out when he refused to go and find dinner with it up. She laughed as she easily unraveled it and said something about how it might be a benefit to his hunting as none of the animals could possibly be afraid of a lovely little wood nymph dancing through their forest, to which Gawain gave an easy-going shrug.

He left soon after, taking the bow and warning her not to leave the camp. He hadn't forgotten her sudden wariness of the morning and had noticed all of her furtive glances into the surrounding trees.

It would seem that the time to confront Gawain had come, but as Gareth was about to turn to follow his brother, Galahad gestured to the woman in the camp. Even if Gawain felt that he could safely leave her, he did not. Gareth reluctantly agreed to stay hidden, but only after he had made it known that upon Gawain's arrival, they were to make their presence known.

* * *

Homeric, now you know why Europe has always had piebalds and skewbalds -- Jin started it. ;o)


	17. Chapter 17

**This is a bit longer than my normal chapters. Originally, it was two, but they were shorter, so I combined them. **

**Enjoy!**

**#17 Surprises**

The peace of the afternoon was broken when a man rushed silently from the trees straight for Gawain. In his haste, he bumped Kirra -- who had risen in alarm, with his shoulder and sent her sprawling on the ground. She lay still for a moment catching her breath before shoving dusty tendrils of hair from her eyes long enough to see the man launch himself at a startled Gawain in a bone-jarring -- if not spectacular, tackle. Gawain fell back hard and was barely able to get an arm up to protect his face before the man started pummeling him.

Kirra pushed herself to her feet and raced behind the man still beating on Gawain. He had attacked silently, but now that she was closer Kirra could hear a string of curses coming from him. She looked around in a panic for something she could use to stop him when she remembered the knife in her hand.

Miraculously, she had neither dropped it nor fell on it when the man had raced by and knocked her down. It was small but sharp and could cause a lot of damage if applied to just the right spot – and Kirra knew all the right spots.

Just as she had reached out to grasp the man's fair hair, Kirra saw another emerging from the forest and take a step in her direction. Tightening her hold in the fistful of wheat colored hair; she hauled the man's head back until he was looking up at her. His light brown eyes widened in surprise and the stream of obscenities that had been flowing from him suddenly dried up. The forest became silent as he tried not to breath or swallow for fear Kirra's knife would cut him. Already the keen edge had drawn blood that shown ruby in the late light and trickled down his throat.

The fair man's companion had slowed his advance but had not stopped it. He moved warily toward Kirra, his hand dropping almost casually to grip the hilt of a sword hanging at his hip. His green eyes flicked from her, to the man she held, to Gawain, and back to her again, unfaltering but indecisive. His steady advance was halted only when Kirra spoke.

"One more step and your friend will be breathing through his neck," She hissed in a low voice that carried through the suddenly oppressive air of the clearing. The implacable glint in her darkened eyes left no mistaking that she meant what she said.

To everyone's surprise it was Gawain who spoke. "It's all right, Kirra." He coughed lightly, wincing as he did so. "I know them."

A slight frown creased Kirra's brow as she turned his words over in her mind. Finally, she released the fair man's hair and backed away still keeping a tight hold on her little knife. The man touched his throat tentatively and slowly got to his feet followed by Gawain.

The latter was grimacing as he wiped at the blood flowing from the re-opened cut above his eyebrow and his lip was split and bleeding, as was his nose. Kirra heard a slight wheezing noise as he breathed and guessed that the wincing wasn't only from the cut. If she was right then Gawain had a couple of cracked ribs to go along with his soon-to-be shiner. All of that would have to wait though because she wasn't going to move another foot until she had some answers.

Already she could feel herself trembling uncontrollably as the adrenaline receded from her bloodstream. She stood still concentrating on breathing normally and willing her heart to stop pounding. The rush of blood through her veins was almost deafening and she wanted desperately to sit down. Gawain noticed her distress at once and turned to face her, effectively shielding her body with his from the angry, but curious eyes of the other knights.

He grasped her shoulders tightly, looking her over, checking for injuries, "It's all right, Kirra. Everything is all right." His hand slid down her arm to the knife she still clutched in her hand. "The fair one is my brother, Gareth, and the other is his best mate, Galahad."

It was Kirra's turn to be curious. She had been told a little about each of them and was interested to see if they were anything like the legends. She peeked around Gawain's large form and stared at the two men. Except for the fierce expression in their eyes, they -- like Gawain, looked nothing she would ever have pictured King Arthur's knights looking like.

The fair one, now that she knew, did resemble Gawain quite a bit. It could be seen in the shape of his eyes and the set of his jaw. He was, perhaps, not quite as tall or as broad through the shoulders and chest then Gawain was. His hair was more of a wheat color and cut shorter then Gawain kept his and was secured at the nape of his neck and unlike his brother, he was clean shaven. His eyes, which were hard and angry at the moment, were a light brown.

His companion, Galahad, stood shoulder to shoulder with Gareth, but was more slender in build then either of the two brothers, and he was darker, with an unruly mop of dark curls. His had folded his arms over his chest and was regarding Kirra and Gawain with eyes that looked to be green, but were no less furious then Gareth's were.

Gareth spoke first, "Where in the name of the gods have you been?" He took an aggressive step forward. "We thought you were dead. We were out here looking for your pathetic scrap of hide and instead find you sporting with a wench."

Kirra's face reddened in humiliation. Gawain had called her that before but never with the venom with which Gareth used the word. His tone caused Gawain's eyes to glitter dangerously and he scowled as he turned to face his brother, still carefully shielding Kirra with his body. "Careful what you say in regards to Kirra, brother." He warned.

Gareth exploded, "What care I for the _wench_?"

He was livid and for a moment Kirra thought he was going to launch himself at Gawain again and perhaps he would have had Gawain not moved to the side so that the two knights could see Kirra properly for the first time. Galahad placed a restraining hand on his friend's arm and both the men both gawked at the young woman.

"Who … How …?" Gareth asked in shock.

Gawain spat a bit of blood onto the ground and smiled painfully through his bruised and torn lip, "This is Kirra."

He placed his hand on the small of Kirra's back and nudged her forward as if she were some kind of offering. She could read the shock and disbelief on the faces of his brother and fellow knight and she was a bit annoyed at being thrust forward like some sacrificial lamb, but she held her tongue as Gawain continued.

"Kirra found me and healed me after that last fight."

Gareth's brown eyes snapped back to meet Gawain's blue ones, "Then why did you not send us word?" he asked accusingly, betrayal written over his features. "I was …" -- his jaw clenched convulsively as he fought back his emotions -- "we mourned you."

Kirra's heart dropped at the admission and she took a hesitant step forward, "I am afraid that is my fault." Gareth turned his attention to her; Galahad had never looked away and was still staring in astonishment.

"You see," she faltered, "I didn't know at the time and even if I had, I wouldn't have known how to get word to you."

Gareth looked to Gawain for confirmation.

"It's true. We were unable to send a message. And besides," Gawain grinned, "who would have thought you would have been that upset over my death. You should have been rejoicing, it would have meant less competition for female companionship."

Kirra rolled her eyes as the men chuckled. Gareth, accepting his brother's apology, for the moment, came forward and embraced him followed by Galahad who, Kirra had been told, was like a brother.

Gawain grimaced and swallowed a groan at the exuberant embraces, but Kirra saw the flash of pain as it crossed his face and knew something must be done. She also wanted to take a look at the thin cut she had given Gareth and check over his bruised and torn knuckles. And as she was still feeling shaky and faintly nauseated, Kirra knew that it would help her relax if she had something to focus her energy on. She delicately cleared her throat to get the men's attention.

"What is it Kirra?" Gawain asked. The others, having momentarily forgotten the woman, turned back to her and were surprised anew at her resemblance to Tristan.

"Well, you are bleeding all over the place and I am pretty sure that you have some broken, or at the least bruised, ribs and I want to check over that cut on Gareth's throat and look over his hands. You have a pretty hard head and it wouldn't do to have him return in less then perfect condition."

"I am fine," Gawain protested, even as he dropped a hand to steady his aching side.

Kirra's eyes darkened in an expression that Gawain knew all to well. One that said she was not fooled by his acting abilities and that she was going to tend to him whether he liked it or not. She surprised him by smiling and asking innocently in a honeyed voice, "Well, in that case could you please hand me my knife so that I can finish with dinner?"

Gawain moved carefully to retrieve the knife that he had dropped when his brother had embraced him but could not refrain from sucking in his breath from the movement. He rose to see Kirra staring at him, unmovable, with her arms folded across her chest.

Kirra raised an eyebrow, "That's what I thought." She took the knife from him. "Go sit by the fire before you hurt yourself further."

Gareth and Galahad exchanged a knowing grin when Gawain meekly turned to do Kirra's bidding, but their amusement was cut short when Kirra turned back to them.

"You," she said sharply, gesturing to Gareth, "join your brother; I want to take a look at that cut and check your hands." Her tone and the fierce expression in her eyes were so familiar that Gareth left at once. Galahad's laughter ringing in his ears until Kirra turned on him.

"Glad you think that's funny. You get to finish chopping vegetables." She handed him her knife and walked away, calling over her shoulder, "Oh, wash that thing off before you use it on the food."

It was Gawain's and Gareth's turn to laugh at Galahad's hang-dog look of obedience when Kirra left him.

------------------

Later that night the men sat around the smoldering fire and talked quietly. Kirra, having used more energy then was perhaps needed in healing the two men, had retired right after she had eaten and was sleeping nearby. All that could be seen of her was a shock of dark hair which glimmered faintly in the moonlight. Finn was sprawled at her side and snoring softly.

Gawain quietly and almost thoroughly recounted the events of the weeks that he had been away. He left out a few minor details, thinking that Kirra would probably not appreciate all that had transpired between them shared with the two men, even if one was his brother. Occasionally his eyes would flick toward the lump of blankets that was her. When this happened Gareth and Galahad would exchange a knowing glance. The night was silent as the men absorbed the narrative.

"Well, I still can't believe that she is able to do what she did to us." Gareth said in stunned tones as he examined his knuckles. There was some slight discoloration and a couple of small scratches, that looked like nothing more then the scratches given by rose thorns, to show that he had even used his fists at all, but he felt no pain, not even the residual ache of an older bruise. He felt as good as new.

Gawain nodded. He was weary, his body tired from the healing process and he wanted to go to sleep, but knew that he had a lot of questions to answer. "Aye, Kirra is amazing."

Galahad nudged Gareth, "If I didn't know any better, I would say that you were in love with the girl." He said in attempt to goad Gawain.

"Aye," grinned Gareth, "you've been making calf-eyes at her all night." He chuckled, "if that's the case, there are going to be quite a few very disappointed maids back at the fort. That is, until they realize that Gal and I are still around."

Galahad nodded, "I figure we'll be enough to take the sting out of it."

Gawain looked at the two younger knights thoughtfully, "You two together, perhaps, but then again they are used to _real_ men."

Gareth snorted as he stirred up the fire and added a log. It was good to be joking with Gawain again, but he was not about to allow him to change the subject. He sat back and glanced at his older brother.

"So, are you?" he asked.

Gawain looked up from the twig he was shredding, "Am I what?"

"In love with the girl."

The twinkle didn't fade from Gawain's eye; rather it sharpened until it was hard and piercing. He looked from Gareth to Galahad to Gareth again. They sobered instantly as he said, "Aye, I love her, but it is more then that." He paused and tossed the twig into the fire, watching it blacken and curl before he spoke next. "Kirra and I, well…she's my wife," His words were met with stunned silence. "We married before we left her home."

Gareth found his voice first and shook his head in mock sympathy, "If you weren't a dead man before, you will be when Tristan finds out."

Gawain sighed heavily, "I know, but that can't be helped now. It is done and," He looked up his eyes fierce once again, "I'll not let Kirra go for any man. Be he brother or commander."

Galahad scratched his head, "I am betting that you won't have to worry about Arthur because Tristan will slit your throat while you sleep and feed you to that bird of his before Arthur has a chance to do anything. What do you plan to do when we reach the fort?"

Gawain ignored Galahad's first comment, "Kirra will be set up as our healer and you two will never again speak of what I just told you. It is between her and me and no one else. When the time is right we will reveal the truth." He stood to leave and retire for the night and Gareth stood with him.

"I would not be you, brother, for all the ale and all the soft women in the whole of the damned Roman Empire, not with both Tristan and Arthur about." He clapped Gawain on the shoulder and laughed as Gawain rubbed his jaw ruefully.

"That may be, Gareth, but then you have never known such a woman."

Gareth became serious, "I see the love you bear for this woman in your eyes. You'll not be able to keep it from the others." Then his eyes grew sad for a moment, "I pray that I will be able to live long enough to know that kind of love." Then as quickly as it had come, the sorrow was gone, replaced with his sparkling smile, "Gal, you taking first watch tonight?" he asked.

"Aye," his friend called. "Go and get some sleep. I'll wake you later for your turn."

-----------------------------

Galahad sat back and watched the two brothers who were like his own as they retrieved their bed rolls and laid them out. Gawain looked over Kirra for a moment and deciding to leave her undisturbed, lay down a respectful distance away.

The young woman's big gray dog woke at the slight scuffling of the two men and left his mistress's side to join Galahad by the fire. He gave the knight a big grin as he lay down and with a thump of his tail he was soon chasing rabbits in his dreams. _What a guard dog_, Galahad thought as he watched the dog. The animal hadn't even alerted Gawain or Kirra to his and Gareth's presence and they had been waiting and watching all day.

There was a storm coming. Galahad could smell it on the wind and hear the distant roll of thunder. The moon rose higher only to be covered with the quickly amassing clouds and he said a brief prayer asking the goddess to spare them the misery of a wet night and all day ride in damp clothing. He pulled his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders as the wind picked up, certain that the goddess had once again considered him unworthy of an answer.

The wind whisked the glowing embers of the fire high into the trees and Galahad stared at them, thinking of the tale Gawain had told him. It sounded quite unlikely, but he had never known the man to lie in all the years they had been brothers. And Kirra, with her too familiar face and strange powers, which were truly amazing, was impossible to rationalize away.

They needed her, especially now, so close to the end. But, he wondered, why would the goddess send her _now_? Why hadn't she sent her earlier? Galahad's green eyes hardened in anger. How many of their brothers could have been saved from a grisly death? How much sorrow and guilt could have been avoided if the woman had come to live among them earlier?

An owl hooted softly as if in reply to his angry questions and the thunder sounded again, closer this time. Galahad cocked his head at a small, feminine gasp and saw Kirra sit bolt upright, her back to him.

---------------------

Kirra's heart was pounding as she shook her head to clear away the remains of the same old dream. Still the firelight, water, and shadow stayed with her, this time accompanied by the sound of thunder. She looked into the dark forest as fear trickled down her spine and shivered when the wind turned it to a shaft of ice.

Turning, she spotted Galahad watching her silently from beside the glowing fire and gave the knight a weak smile. He didn't return the gesture only sat and continued watching her intently, an indecipherable expression in his eyes and she wondered what it was that Gawain had told him. Or perhaps it was only the wariness of a person unused to her particular talents.

She cringed involuntarily at the next crack of thunder -- tired, cold, and completely out of her element and looked around for Gawain. She could see two still forms not far from her, but was at a loss as to which was Gawain and which was Gareth. She turned her head and looked back at Galahad when she heard the young man clear his throat.

He pointed to one of the still forms and Kirra got to her feet pulling her blanket tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the ever increasing wind. She nodded her thanks to the silent knight and padded over to the sleeping figure and knelt to hesitantly touch the man's shoulder.

Gawain came awake immediately, "What?" He propped himself up on his elbow, eyes alert and dark with concern, "What is it Kirra?"

Kirra's breath caught and she looked toward the sky as the thunder cracked over head and Gawain understood. Smiling he shifted to allow Kirra to lay on the blanket warmed by his body. She laid facing him, shivering and tangling her legs with his until she was as close as she could get without crawling into his skin. Gawain lay down next to her and pulled her even closer. He could feel her heart pounding against his own and smiled in the dark as he stroked her long hair.

"It's just a little thunder, wild one."

Kirra was beginning to calm and felt safe and protected in his arms. "I don't do outdoors in the dark very well." She nipped his skin in response to his gentle teasing and Gawain could feel his body tighten in response.

"None of that," He whispered in her ear. "This is hardly the time or place for such teasing."

Kirra didn't answer but Gawain felt her sigh against his neck. Her breath was warm. She brought her hands up, one she tucked under her cheek and the other moved restlessly against his shirt until she found bare skin. She relaxed her palm against his heart and found it beating in time with her own.

"I am sorry. Really, I am." She whispered, not sounding the least bit sorry. "It's just you are such a temptation. I can't help it. It's not every girl that gets her very own knight and I am afraid that I like to take advantage of that fact."

Gawain gave a low chuckle and buried his face in Kirra's fragrant hair, "Under normal circumstances I would let you take full advantage of that fact, but as my brother is not two feet away and Galahad is watching us, I think we had better save it for later."

Kirra sighed dramatically, "It's just as well. You need to rest and let your ribs finish healing." Unerringly her hand found the bruised spot of flesh and gently stroked it, effectively easing more of the ache.

"What are you saying, Kirra?" Gawain asked in amusement.

She nipped at him again, this time her tongue lingered to soothe the sharp sting, causing him to shiver and she whispered breezily, "Oh, just that it might be too much for you in your present state and I wouldn't want to wear you out."

"My present state?" Gawain chuckled again and squeezed the small woman until she gave a small squeak to show her his present state.

As close as Kirra was to him, it was impossible for her not to feel how he desired her. It was comforting thing to know. She giggled as he loosened his hold on her and rolled to her other side, which was a relief to them both, but Gawain nestled her close again and both fell almost immediately into a deep sleep in which neither dreams nor the gathering storm could disrupt.

-----------------------------

Kirra awoke the next morning to find that the storm had passed them by. Gawain's arm was draped over her waist and for a moment she snuggled closer relishing his weight and warmth. Finally, when she could no longer stand it, she rolled over and watched him as he slept. It was her favorite time.

Sleep took the hardness from his jaw and softened his mouth. And, she brushed a lock of golden hair from his forehead; he looked rather like a small boy with the flush of sleep on him. Kirra kissed his lips softly then gently slid out from under the weight of his arm. Gawain frowned and for a moment she was afraid that he might wake, but he quieted and she got to her feet.

Padding in her bare feet to the banked fire, she saw Gareth watching her from his vantage point higher up, near the trees. Kirra stirred it to life and threw some wood then collected the two small pots and her comb and walked over to him. She smiled a greeting and was relieved when the knight smiled back at her. She saw he had a dimple in his left cheek.

"Good morning," She said in a low voice as not to wake the ones still sleeping. "Thank you for watching out for us last night."

"I was just doing my duty." He said in an equally low voice.

Kirra's brow creased and she gently touched his arm, "But it was more then that to me. I could never have done that." She shivered and glanced up at the lightening sky, "I've never much liked storms, or the dark for that matter."

Gareth chuckled, sounding surprisingly like Gawain, "You get used to the dark and being out in the storms."

Kirra scratched her nose and looked at him doubtfully, "I don't know about that. I have never gotten used to storms."

"Maybe they won't be so bad now." The young man said softly looking over at his brother.

Kirra smiled in understanding, "No, they haven't been that bad lately, now that you mention it."

"You love him, don't you," He stated more comment then question.

Kirra's smile softened and she found it impossible to lie, not about this, "Very much so."

"Good. Gawain needs a good woman to look after him."

"I don't know about the good part, or the woman, but I'll try. Is it safe to go down to the stream for a bit? I would like to start breakfast and need a bit of water. And," she gestured to her sleep mussed hair, "I would like to wash up a bit."

Gareth peered into the shadows of the forest. The stream was not far, its gentle babbling could be heard from the camp. "I think that would be fine, but stay alert and call if you have need. I will be there in an instant."

"Thank you, Gareth." Kirra said before turning to walk down the slight hill to the clear stream.

Gareth watched her go. His eyes panning from side to side of the path she was walking. He examined the tress and breathed silently so as to hear anything the forest might have to tell him. For once he wished he was as good at seeing things not meant to be seen as Tristan was. There would be no forgiveness either of himself or from Gawain if anything happened to her.

As hard as he tried, Gareth found himself distracted by the woman he was attempting to guard. She moved gracefully through the thick undergrowth almost gliding, not making a sound even in her long skirt. It would seem that Tristan's grace and ease in the forest was an inherited trait because Kirra possessed it also. She paused now and then to reverently touch the waking petals of a flower or to peer into the trees to find the source of the bird's song.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?" A quiet voice asked from behind him.

Gareth turned to find Gawain staring after the young woman. He seemed calmer then he had in a long time. And softer. The small worry lines that normally creased his face were fading and Gareth had no doubt that it was because of Kirra.

"Aye, she is." He agreed. "It is strange to watch her, though. You can see a lot of Tristan in her."

Gawain cocked his head in contemplation, "You are probably right, but I have since gotten used to it and don't see it much any more. I see only Kirra. She resembles Tristan, but not any more then you resemble me." He grinned, "Except in certain looks she gives me. There are a few of those that have me wanting to run for cover."

"How do you think he'll take the news?"

Gawain rubbed his jaw, "Probably like anyone of us would take it." He looked at his brother, "He is only a man, after all, just as you and I."

Kirra had finished with her morning ablutions and had filled her two pots. She waved to Gawain and started up the hill toward the two men.

"No," Gareth shook his head, "He is different then us. I am not sure how or why, but he is different and that same difference is even more profound in Kirra."

Gawain clasped his brother's shoulder and squeezed it, "Maybe, but you'll find that she is not nearly so secretive."

"Who's not so secretive?" Kirra asked coming to stand beside him.

"You, pretty girl," Gawain said.

And she was pretty, beautiful even, standing there in the early morning sun. Her hair was damp and had been combed out. It hung, rippling like black silk down her back. Her cheeks were pink from the scrubbing she had given them and her eyes were sparkling like jewels in the early light.

Standing next to Gawain, Kirra looked much smaller then Gareth had first thought. She slipped her small hand in Gawain's and drew up on tiptoe to kiss him. He touched her hair and let it slide through his fingers in a surprisingly intimate gesture that almost had Gareth looking away.

"Good morning," Kirra greeted Gawain breathlessly. She didn't exactly ignore Gareth, but had eyes only for Gawain. "I was just about to start breakfast."

"Don't worry over that this morning. We will just have some bread and cold rabbit before we start out." Gawain looked around, "It's the third day. I think it would be best if we got out of this forest as soon as possible."

Kirra grimaced, she like cold rabbit even less then warm rabbit, which wasn't a lot. "I'll eat your rabbit, but don't expect me to enjoy it."

She took a few steps to the side and emptied the larger of the two pots. She was about to do the same with the smaller when Gawain stopped her.

"Just because we are going to have cold leftover rabbit doesn't mean that you can't have some tea."

She raised her eyebrow, "You sure we have time for it? I thought you wanted to leave ASAP."

Gareth didn't understand the foreign word she had interjected, but apparently Gawain knew what Kirra was talking about because he glanced over at Galahad's unmoving form and chuckled. Galahad was about as easy to wake as a rock.

"It will take us that long just to rouse Galahad."

Kirra contemplated the sleeping man for a few moments then turned with a wicked gleam in her eyes, "I know a way to wake him up in a matter of seconds."

Gawain knew the look and asked suspiciously, "What are you thinking of?"

"Come and see," She tugged on his hand to get him to follow and gestured for Gareth to accompany them.

Once they were standing close enough, Kirra calmly walked over to Galahad and poured the contents of her small pot on his head. Then she tossed the pot to Gareth, who caught it out of reflex and casually sauntered away, just as Galahad jumped to his feet swearing to make their ears burn. Water dripped from his dark curls and into his eyes. He looked at the two men; eyes darkened in rage and stopped when he spotted Gareth standing beside him looking stunned and grasping a pot that Galahad knew had been used to give him a good dousing.

Gareth, seeing the rage in his friend's eyes tossed the pot to Gawain and ran for his life. Galahad tried to follow but tripped over his blankets and fell with a impressive thud right on his face. Kirra sank to the ground, hugging herself and shaking in silent laughter. Tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched Gareth try and avoid his friend.

Gawain crouched beside her, "That was quite possibly the cruelest thing I have ever seen you do, Kirra." He watched as Galahad tackled Gareth and the two rolled on the ground like boys in a playground fight. They weren't really hurting each other, just shouting curses and smacking each other around. "But it has provided good entertainment. Do you want to refill your pot or shall I?"

"Don't worry about it, but you could go and make sure Galahad doesn't kill Gareth."

Gawain handed her the pot, "Leaving me to clean up your messes, are you?"

Kirra's smile lit her face and she leaned over and kissed him, "You are my knight in shining armor."

She got to her feet but was tripped up when the two men rolled into her. She fell in a heap shrieking laughter and trying in vain to scoot out of the way before she was crushed. Finn raced around barking and adding to the din. Gawain watched for a few moments, letting Kirra get thoroughly mashed -- to teach her some manners, before going and pulling Galahad off Gareth and Gareth off Kirra. Kirra sat up laughing at the expression on Galahad's face when he was told it had been her who had woken him in such a damp manner.

The wet knight looked at her, "You really _are_ a wench, aren't you?"

Kirra laughed and stood to shake the dust from her skirt, "I have been called that from time to time. And I suppose it's true, but you should have seen your face." She giggled helplessly at the thought of him sitting up with water dripping from his hair and off the tip of his nose.

Galahad looked over at Gawain, who was chuckling, "Can't you control your woman better then that?" he asked.

Gawain shook his head and Kirra moved over to Galahad and put out her hand to help him up, "Oh, I am sure that I'll make it up to you sometime. Come on; let's go get ready to leave. Gawain has a great surprise for us for breakfast -- cold rabbit." She let go of Galahad's hand still chattering away, "I am just so thrilled, really. He just goes all out for us."

Galahad looked at Gawain and raised an eyebrow at Kirra's slightly hysterical prattle. Gawain shrugged, "I think she's nervous."

She stopped suddenly, "Well, wouldn't you be?" She looked from Gareth to Galahad, "Look how you reacted to our coming. Next time I'll be facing an unknown brother and Arthur. And I am not even sure what I am supposed to be doing here."

Gareth grinned and threw his arm around her narrow shoulders, "Oh, I wouldn't worry over it too much, little sister, after this morning's display, you'll fit right in."


	18. Chapter 18

**Sorry, this is a shorter chapter. Thanks for the reviews! (Keep it up!)**

**Enjoy!**

**#18 The Welcome**

The final ride to the fort was short and uneventful, though the men were fully on their guard. Kirra had never seen Gawain so serious or so alert. She wondered how different he would be here then he had been at her home. She hoped this new side of him wouldn't be too hard to get used to. But as the day wore on and he teased her, she felt her worries fade. Soon she saw something in the distance and suddenly it seemed as if mere seconds had passed since she had greeted Gareth that morning until Gawain was pointing out the wall to her.

The first sight of the great wall and its equally magnificent gate was overwhelming. Kirra had seen the wall in books and online, but those had been only ruins whereas this was the real thing in its heyday. The wall seemed to stretch on to the eternities in either direction and the gate looked too massive to ever be breeched. Her heart began to pound when Gareth spoke to a soldier on the wall and one huge door was slowly wrenched open.

Gawain felt her tense and rubbed her arm soothingly, "Relax, all will be well. We will go and talk to Arthur first. He will want to see me and then we will see if we can't find Tristan."

His words did little to calm her and she was suddenly glad that she had not the appetite for breakfast as she was sure it would have made a horribly embarrassing second showing right there in the gateway of what was to be her new home. And Kirra was quite sure that neither Gareth nor Galahad would ever let her forget it if she did throw up. She found she was trembling and forced herself to breathe normally and calm down.

Galahad rode around them, anxious to be home and raised his eyebrows at Kirra's pale, almost gray, face. She waved him on when he would have stopped and inquired after her and so he left with hardly a second glance, confident that Gawain would see her to where she needed to go. Gareth followed close behind Galahad; their horses excited at the smell of home and the promise of a good feed.

Gawain followed the knights more slowly so Kirra could take in the village, but all too soon they were at the stables and he was lifting her from Fate's back. Finn sat, tongue lolling and grinning at the new place, while Jin stood patiently under her burdens while she waited for someone to remove them. The grooms eyed the strange little mare as though she were some type of demon.

"Make sure they treat Jin well, Gawain. I don't like the way they are looking at her." Kirra said in a tight voice.

"They will, don't fear." And he gave the young men a hard look, one that translated into trouble for them should the mare come to harm.

A man with a pock marked face hurried up to the returning knights, a grin of delight on his face.

"Gawain! They found you, then." He gripped Gawain's arm in greeting.

"Good to see you too, Jols."

"And who's …" The man faltered as he caught sight of Kirra's face and his eyes flicked to Gawain's face.

Gawain was grinning easily, "Jols, this is Kirra, Kirra this is Jols. He is Arthur's squire and the master of the stables. His word is law here."

Kirra extended her hand and smiled sweetly. It was going to be a long day if everyone had that same reaction to her. "It's a pleasure, sir." Jols pressed her hand in a distracted manner and Kirra continued, "Since you are the master here, would you please make sure that my horses are taken care of, especially the little black and white mare. It would seem that your men have never seen one such as her and I would hate for them to treat her badly because of her odd coloring. Oh, and never mind the dog. He is huge, but harmless."

"Yes, lady," He breathed, still gawking.

Kirra flushed, "I'm hardly that, but thank you."

Jols tore his eyes away from the familiarity in the young woman's face long enough to inform Gawain that Arthur wanted to see him as soon as he was settled. It would seem that Gareth and Galahad had wasted little time in announcing that they had found Gawain alive and well.

Gawain nodded soberly, "Would you please find someone to take Kirra's things to my quarters?" He asked Jols, who hid his surprise well.

"It will be done." He promised and watched as Gawain placed a possessive hand on the small of Kirra's back and guided her from the stable. The massive grey dog got up and padded softly after the couple, pausing now and then to snuff at some new scent.

"Will he be angry?" Kirra asked when they were out of ear shot from Jols.

"Why should he be angry, he is just finding someone to move your things? But then again, the Fate did not exactly pack you lightly now did she." He grinned knowing she hadn't meant Jols.

Kirra shook her head causing dark tendrils to bounce and toss, "I meant Arthur," She replied dryly.

Gawain sighed and thought for a moment before answering, "Truthfully, I am not sure. I don't think he will be as angry as if I had just deserted. The fact that I was injured and you found me and cared for me should soften any anger. And he is an unusually fair man."

Kirra said nothing but her eyes narrowed. _An unusually fair man would never allow people to be taken from their homes as children and forced to kill people for a living_, but she kept that her thoughts to herself and prayed that Gawain was right. He led her along a silent, dim corridor and stopped in front of a set of doors.

"I will go in first and fetch you in a bit." He said somewhat distractedly. It would seem he was more apprehensive then he let on.

Kirra nodded and sat down on a small bench that seemed to be there expressly for the purpose of waiting. She grasped Gawain's hand and pressed is reassuringly, "It will be fine. Go in, have your talk and then hurry back. Remember that I will be waiting here all by myself and I have no idea what is going on and if he _does_ decide to kill you, I will really be screwed, and not in the nice sense of the word either."

Gawain had no idea what the word, nice or not, meant, so he just smiled and leaned down to brush a kiss over the top of her head and taking a deep breath, he knocked on one of the doors and pushed it open without waiting for a reply. For a moment Kirra caught the fascinating sight of a great hall with a huge curving table in the center before the door closed and she was left in the dim, with Finn as her only companion.

Kirra took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Her heart was pounding loudly and her stomach was knotted. She felt as though she were sitting outside the principal's office at school waiting for a punishment. It was hard to keep from tapping her foot in nervous anticipation.

Finn sensed her unease and whined as he pressed himself closer to her. Kirra patted his head as a tall, handsome man came striding confidently -- swaggering really, up the hall towards her. He smiled engagingly as he neared her.

"I see they found a lovely one for Arthur's birthday," He commented when he reached her, then gave her a quick look up and down.

Kirra gaped, "_Excuse me_?" Could he have actually meant what he said? And that look, she felt dirty.

The man smiled roguishly and sat down next to her, ignoring Finn when he growled menacingly, "Oh, no need to play coy with me, lady. Why don't you come with me for a bit, and I will show you a _real_ man." He had lowered his voice seductively and leaned toward her.

"I think not!" Kirra said in outrage and she jumped to her feet eager to escape, but having no idea as to where to go.

The man stood with her and Kirra found to her utter dismay that he was quite a bit taller then she. Finn fairly snarled at him and for the first time he seemed to notice the great brute of a dog. His dark eyes widened slightly, "You are not for Arthur are you?" he questioned, the truth finally hitting him.

Kirra's back was ramrod strait and she was sure she was blushing furiously and thankful for the obscure light of the corridor that hid it. She was also pretty sure that the dim also kept her features hidden and that if the man knew Arthur on such a first name basis then he couldn't help but at least have the same reaction to her as others had had given different circumstances. Under normal circumstances and in full light she was sure that he would have seen her, recognized her somewhat uncomfortably, and left her alone. It did little to calm her fury.

"I am not _for_ anyone," She hissed venomously and the hair along Finn's spine stood up at the sound.

The tall man knew he had made a mistake, "I can see that now." He took a step towards her, "Just why are you here, lady?"

"I am waiting to speak to Arthur," She retorted, playing it safe and vague.

"Well, what could be so important that such a pretty young wench would be waiting here to speak to a Roman?" He took a step closer to peer into her stormy eyes. His own narrowed, "What -- ?" he asked in suspicion, but too late as Finn had decided that he had had enough of this man threatening his mistress. He snarled again and positioned his lanky frame between Kirra and the stranger.

"Some dog," The man commented.

"Yes, and I don't think he likes you." Kirra said in agreement as Finn stiffly approached the man backing him towards the opposite wall, which just so happened to hold the doors that led to the great hall.

The stranger, not wanting to come in contact with the angry teeth of the advancing animal allowed himself to be cornered until his back pressed against the doors. "Could you call him off?" he asked in concerned tones.

"Why?" Kirra asked darkly. "He's here to protect me from the likes of you. And since when do you think that you can just go around talking that way to women you have never met?"

The man shook his head but his full attention was on Finn who had not backed down, but was still stalking him. He felt behind his back and grasped the door's ornate handle just as the dog launched itself at him. Kirra yelled a warning, but was too late as man and snarling dog fell over backwards into the room beyond.

"Finn, no!"

Kirra moved to pull the dog off the tall man before he could be seriously hurt. For once, Finn's obedience was instantaneous and he immediately sat by her side, but low warning growls could still be heard rumbling from deep in the his throat.

The startled occupants of the room leaped to their feet, hands dropping automatically to the weapons neither wore and one went to help his slightly worse-for-wear companion as the tall man pushed himself to his feet and brushed dog hair from his dark clothing, while Gawain went to stand beside Kirra.

"Animals like that should be locked up," The tall man growled, sounding a bit like the animal he was protesting.

Kirra opened her free hand in a gesture of remorse, but in the direction of the man she had interrupted, "Oh, I'm so sorry. This man accosted me in the hall and Finn was trying to protect me."

Gawain and the other man laughed as the stranger ran a hand through his dark hair, "Accosted?" He snorted.

Kirra glared at him and opened her mouth, but was stopped by the man Gawain had been speaking with.

"That sounds about right. Lancelot, are you sure that is not the way of it?"

Kirra's eyes rolled shut and she hung her head for a moment before lifting it again and smiling cynically at her predicament. It would figure the first man Finn ever attacked would be one of the most well known in history. Lancelot merely shrugged his shoulders and draped himself in a nearby chair.

"Accosted is such a strong word, propositioned is much closer to the truth."

Kirra cocked her head at him is astonishment, anger firing her eyes again, "And that is so much better, eh?" She had half a mind to let go of Finn and let him finish the work he started. Gawain noticed the malicious glint in her eyes and gently took hold of Finn's collar and nudged Kirra forward.

"Before you decide to let Finn lunch on Lancelot, this is Arthur. Arthur, this is Kirra."

It was hard to miss the note of pride and affection in Gawain's voice as he introduced his woman to his commander.

"She was the one to find me and save my life."

Kirra blushed but was unable to take her eyes from Arthur's. Yes, she should have guessed he was the man who would be one of Briton's greatest legends. He looked the part, all tall and imposing, but his hazel eyes were steady and fair, if not shrewd. She knew he would not be angry with Gawain, but glad that he had come home. And if he was surprised by her appearance he hid it well.

Arthur bowed slightly, "My thanks for returning one of my knights to me."

"It was nothing, really." She said feeling a bit like she should curtsy or something.

He nodded and gestured for her to take a seat at the great table. Kirra froze and looked up at Gawain with wonder in her eyes. _At the table?_ She thought and he seemed to know what she was thinking.

He grinned and nudged her towards it, "It's fine."

Kirra sat gingerly on the edge of the nearest chair. Gawain settled himself nearby never letting go of Finn, whose growls had receded into silence, but whose fur had yet to smooth. He scratched the dog's ears in attempt to get him to calm.

"Gawain tells me that you are a healer," Arthur said drawing Kirra's attention back to him. He gestured for a nearby servant to bring her a cup of wine.

She looked at the cup as it was placed before her and wondered if it would be considered rude not to drink it. "Yes, I am, of sorts."

"Of sorts?" The Roman asked with a raised eyebrow and a look at Gawain.

An annoyed frown creased Kirra's brow. She was here; there was no need to check with Gawain over her qualifications. She tossed her dark braid over her shoulder in an act of defiance, "Alright then. I am a healer and a good one at that."

"Might I have a bit of a demonstration," he asked. "Before I decide whether or not to agree to Gawain's proposal? We have many healers here, in addition to my own physicians."

Kirra stared at the Roman commander coolly; this she had been unprepared for, but should have known it would be required. Her eyes had hardened to ice and she shrugged unconcernedly, "If you would like."


	19. Chapter 19

**#19 Challenge**

Arthur was surprised by the coolness in the girl's voice. Her eyes were hard and dark and her expression reminiscent of Tristan, who he had learned from Gawain was her brother, but it was something he could not have failed to realize on his own. She also didn't seem to like the fact that he doubted her claims and looked to Gawain to make decisions. She was a different type of woman then he was accustomed to.

He glanced at Lancelot, who was feigning unconcern, but watching the girl from the corner of his eye, "Lancelot, would you please bring Bors' child here?" His second in command left immediately and surprisingly without a word. Arthur turned to the girl again, "Bors is another of my knights." Kirra nodded. "His child was attacked by a dog. The wound will not heal and it is certain they will loose the little one. No one here can do anything more. It is now only a matter of time." His meaning seemed to stick in the air.

He was surprised when the anger left the girl's face to be replaced with worry and she immediately rose from her chair and turned to address Gawain.

"I'll need water, a pot, and clean rags … linen … whatever and my little bag. You know, the green one. Oh, and my bowl."

Gawain nodded and left the room taking Finn with him.

Kirra clasped her hands and turned to Arthur, "Now, do you have a room in mind where I can work?"

"Here will be fine."

Kirra's expression was one of horror, "You want me to do it _here_? In _this_ room?" She wrinkled her nose when he again affirmed her question and protested. "But it's filthy in here."

Arthur's jaw dropped, that was the last thing he had expected to come from her mouth. He attempted to protest, but she had already turned away and was wiping a section of the table off with a clean section of the inside of her skirt. It was high up and he turned away when he saw more of her leg then he felt he should have. She didn't seem to notice or care.

Only when she had finished and dropped her skirt, and he deemed it safe did he turn to see her move to the fire. She stoked the blaze high and added more wood from the pile that sat to the side, then rolled up her sleeves and after scrutinizing the room with distaste apparent in her eyes, sat to wait.

"You seem to be competent enough," Arthur said to break the silence and the girl just stared at him. It was impossible to tell what she was thinking -- other than she thought him a great sodding fool and for what, he wasn't quite certain.

They sat in silence until Lancelot reentered the room, followed by a sturdy red-headed woman carrying a child on her hip. She looked worn and weary. At once Kirra jumped to her feet and moved to speak to the woman.

"I'm Kirra. Arthur tells me that your baby was bit by a dog."

The woman nodded.

"Was the dog acting sick or different?" Kirra wasn't even sure if they had rabies during this time period, but it helped to know more of what she was dealing with.

"No, it was jus' one of the wild dogs that hangs about the tavern waitin' for handouts. The babe here went for it, thinkin' it was like the ones we have at home and the dog ..." The woman's large brown eyes grew wet at the memory of hearing her child's screams and her inability to act fast enough to save the baby from harm.

By this time, Gawain had returned with Kirra's things. She saw him enter the room and squeezed the older woman's shoulder smiling reassuringly. "Well, let's see what I can do, huh? Why don't you go and sit down while I get some things ready."

The woman nodded and then, to Kirra's annoyance, looked to Arthur to make sure it was alright. She sat only after he had smiled and Kirra sat in front of her.

"Would you please get that water over the fire to boil?" Kirra asked Gawain when he handed her bag and bowl to her. Then turning her attention back to the woman, she ignored the men.

"What is your name?" She asked.

"It's Vanora, lady. Bors is my man."

"Well, I have not yet met him, but that's good. And I am not much of a lady. Just call me Kirra. What's your baby's name?"

A faint blush brightened Vanora's pale face, "This is Nine."

Kirra wasn't sure she had heard the woman correctly, "Nine? As in the _number_ nine?"

"Aye, there are ten all together," she shrugged, "It was easier to give them numbers."

Kirra fought the laugh that threatened to spill out of her. This was hardly the place or time. The unexpected stress must be acting on her, "That is great!" She exclaimed then sobered. "Do you mind if I look at Nine?"

Vanora shifted her child and opened the blankets so that Kirra could see her. Kirra kept her face carefully composed at the sight of that little ragged face. She looked just like Kirra imagined Frankenstein's monster would have looked. The damage was extensive and terrible.

Lacerations and tears criss-crossed the toddler's small face and it looked as it someone with a large needle had sewn the gashes together with equally large stitches. Kirra wasn't even sure that the wounds had been cleaned properly before the flesh had been stitched, so red and swollen was the baby's flesh. A thick yellow crust had formed over some of the stitches and a few were weeping. A particularly, long gash slanted across the forehead and crossed one of the child's eyes and it was plain that the child might never again see out of that eye. The little thing made a pathetic mewling sound when Kirra touched her head to check for fever. That too was present.

It would seem that the dog had just gone for the child's face. She met the mother's eyes, they were wet again.

"Was she bit anywhere else?" Kirra asked in a reasonably steady voice. It wouldn't do to clean up her face then have the child die as result of a wound not mentioned, but still dangerous.

"No, only in the face."

Kirra nodded, thinking, "Well, that's a blessing then." She paused before continuing, "I am not sure I can help with the sight in her right eye, but I should be able to clean everything so that there will be no more threat of infection and I think I can help minimize the scarring,"

Vanora looked hopeful.

"There will be some scarring, understand, but it will not be so severe."

"Anything, just so long as she lives."

Kirra gave a grim smile and patted the mother's arm. "She will, don't worry."

"Kirra, your water is ready," Gawain informed her.

Kirra got to her feet, "Great. Let's get started."

She opened her bag and rifled though it, pulling out herbs and thread and needles, which she threaded and dangled in the pot of boiling water.

"Here," she said handing the very end of the thread to Gawain, then dipped out some of the water for her bowl and crushed her chosen herbs into it. She returned to the mother and child as a rather stout man pushed open the doors to the great hall, followed by one of the largest men Kirra had ever seen. She paused in her preparations, her eyes widening at the sight of him.

"Wha's this about, Arthur?" The first man said striding angrily to the Roman.

"Oh, stop that," Vanora snapped before Arthur could answer. "Kirra is going to make Nine well again."

The man turned and pinned a furious glare on Kirra, so much so, that Gawain instinctively stepped in front of her. She sighed and tried to push him away. He didn't budge.

"Come on, caveman, move it," She ordered and again shoved at him again, causing him to reluctantly step aside, before facing who she guessed was the child's father -- large and furious father, "If you want me to help, get out of the way and be quiet."

He gaped for a moment at her audacity then took an aggressive step towards her. Kirra held her ground, though the man looked like a boar ready to rend her limb from limb. He was stopped when Vanora touched his arm.

"Let her try, Bors." Her voice was soft and pleading. "Nothin' else has worked and Kirra seems so confident. Let her try."

Bors thought it over, "Fine, but if anything goes wrong, girl …" He pointed at her and his threat filled the already tense air with malice.

"Nothing will go wrong, and if it does then you can have your pound of flesh," Kirra promised deprecatingly. "Now sit down."

She turned to Arthur, "Is there anyone else who would like to join us. I am sure that there are a few people left in the village who wouldn't mind a show."

She couldn't help being a little sarcastic. This was her first healing without having Niara near and she was nervous, but careful not to let that show. She wanted only competence and professionalism to be displayed. She didn't wait for the Roman's answer, but sat down again in front of Vanora.

"I am going to have to put the little one to sleep. Everything will be fine," She said to calm the momentary panic that flashed through the woman's eyes. "I will wake her when I am finished, but I don't want her to be awake for the cleaning and stitching. It will be very painful."

Vanora nodded reluctantly, "If you are sure you can wake her."

Kirra grinned, "Oh that is one thing that I am very sure of. She is still very strong, the trauma and wounds haven't taken her strength of spirit from her. She wants very much to stay with you."

She reached out a hand to gently stroke the baby's soft, curling hair. It was a beautiful shade of red-gold, the color of fall leaves and thick as anything. The baby regarded her calmly now with her one good eye.

It was as if even at that tender age the child knew Kirra was there to help. Perhaps it was a gift from the goddess, Kirra had a feeling it was. She murmured the words to send the little one to sleep. Heavy lids drifted down and covered one battered blind eye and one pure, blue eye. The marking on Kirra's shoulder tingled and her wrist burned so she had to remove the leather band that kept it hidden in order to award herself a measure of comfort.

Kirra forgot everything as she worked on the child, even blocking out the shocked gasps as her wash water foamed up along the reopened gashes. Time seemed to stand still and place dropped away so that there was no one but her and the baby who existed in the world. The whole time she worked she felt the little one hovering around her, watching and lending her added strength when Kirra grew weary.

At last it was done and the last stitch was knotted and gently bandaged. Kirra called to the baby and was extraordinarily pleased to find that when the little girl opened her eyes both were whole and undamaged. The baby grinned up at her mother.

Kirra smiled and stretched her back. She was weary and extremely hungry, but elated that she had done so well on her first solo healing. She sensed the silence in the room and looked about, six pairs of wide, awed eyes stared at her.

Her smile slipped, "What?"

Bors leaned in closer, "Her eye's healed."

"I was hoping that it would be, but it still needs to be bathed in this water." She gestured to the leftover herbal water that sat still and unmoving in her bowl. "As do the rest of her wounds, every day until the stitches come out in about two weeks – ten days."

"But her eye is healed," He repeated in a gruff voice.

Kirra's brows knit in confusion, "I know."

"She was blind in that eye."

The gathered group stared at Kirra waiting for an explanation. Even Gawain seemed to be surprised by her skill though he had experienced it before.

"You wanted her healed, I did my best. I am sure that if you still want her blind you can poke her with a stick or some other sharp instrument."

Bors looked at Kirra for a moment before catching her up in a crushing bear hug, "You did a miracle, girl, a bloody miracle."

Vanora was silently crying for joy, Dag clapped Bors on the shoulder, and Lancelot watched with an amused grin from his chair. After Bors had placed Kirra on her feet again, Gawain pulled her close and kissed her soundly to the shock and amusement of all.

"Well," said Arthur, bringing an end to the celebratory air, "It looks as though we have a new healer. I hope that is fine with you Dagonet."

Kirra stilled and looked up at the huge man.

"That will be fine," He consented in a deep, calm voice.

There were many more words of gratitude before the room was cleared of the small family and extra knights and before Kirra thought it appropriate to slump into a chair. Gawain had been the only thing holding her upright towards the end.

"Are you all right, lady?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

Gawain squeezed her shoulder. He had not witnessed such aftereffects of such a healing on Kirra before and the change it wrought in her coloring and strength worried him.

"Yes," Kirra said in a thin voice. "But do you, by chance, have anything to eat. It requires quite a bit of energy to heal in that manner and I didn't eat much breakfast."

"Oh, yes. Of course," Arthur gestured and the servant again approached, this time with a tray of bread, cheese and fruit. And another cup of wine, but this time Kirra noticed that he had watered it down. She smiled her thanks and dug in.

So intent was Kirra on her food that she did not hear a word that was spoken between the two men. Only when she felt the sugar hitting her system, did she catch the end of the conversation.

"She will stay with you for the time being then, Gawain," Arthur said.

The knight nodded, "That would be best."

"I will look for a place that you can have as a surgery, lady." Arthur said, turning his attention back to the tired woman in front of him. She nodded her thanks as she stifled a yawn. Arthur smiled, "I think it is time for our new healer to take a rest."

"I am sorry," Kirra said. "It really zaps me."

Arthur's brows knit in perplexity at her words and he nodded slowly, "I am sure that it does. I will let you know when we have found a suitable place for you."

It would seem the meeting was over and they were dismissed. Gawain got to his feet pulling Kirra up with him and together they left, leaving a very thoughtful Roman sitting alone in the great room.


	20. Chapter 20

**Sorry for the long wait my Lovlies! I hope you all had a wonderful holiday. **

**Enjoy!!! (and review!!!) :o)**

**#20 Home**

"It's not nearly as nice as the room you gave me, but it's home." Gawain said as he pushed a heavy wooden door open and let Kirra enter the room before him.

Kirra stepped warily over the threshold not knowing what to expect. Finn was waiting, curled on the closest bed. He lifted his head and grinned at her, his tail wagging a couple of times before he went back to sleep.

The room was small and cold. The only furniture in it was the two narrow beds that sat against the southern wall; a small wooden chest was at the foot of each and a table that sat on the northern side of the eastern window. A clay bowl rested there – presumably for washing.

But there was a window – wooden shutters separated it from the outside, and a fireplace. It could be warm and open. Someone had brought Kirra's things in and they sat in an untidy heap on the floor next to the bed Finn slept on. A rather deadly axe sat propped against the far wooden chest and an equally menacing sword rested on its rough surface.

"Two beds?" Kirra asked.

Gawain shrugged, "When there were more of us, Gareth and I shared a room. Now we each have our own."

"I hope you don't mind sharing again," She replied with a glance over her shoulder.

Gawain crossed the room in three strides and caught Kirra up in a tight embrace, "I do, but I guess it will have its advantages."

Kirra wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled. She kissed him chastely, than lay limp in his arms, "But not right now. I feel like I am going to pass out."

Gawain laid her on his empty bed and sat beside her, "I thought excuses like that were saved for when we had been married for years."

Kirra smiled unapologetically, "At least I didn't fake a headache."

"I am not so sure if pleading exhaustion is so different," Gawain replied with a raised eyebrow.

Kirra thought – which was getting increasingly more difficult. She was so weary she was slurring her words. She curled on her side and yawned, "Well, how about, I just saved the life of a child and so deserve sleep."

Gawain chuckled low in his throat and brushed a kiss across her temple, "Since you put it that way. I'll leave you alone." He got to his feet, "I am going to go and find the others. I will be back before supper to get you."

Kirra had closed her eyes and nodded drowsily. She was asleep before Gawain had left the room.

---------------------

All too soon, Kirra was being gently shaken awake. She opened her eyes and lay still for a moment as the memories of where she was came flooding back. Gawain was watching her closely.

"I could spend the rest of my life watching you wake," He murmured.

"You will," She said as she stretched her stiff muscles, she must not have moved much during her nap. "Did you find your friends?"

"Yes," Gawain said. "They're waiting for us at the tavern."

Kirra smiled, reached for her husband and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Do you think they can wait for a few more minutes?" she asked in a heated whisper.

Gawain lowered his head and kissed her, "I don't think they have much choice," he murmured against the soft skin of her neck. Kirra shivered in response and tightened her hold on him, pulling him closer.

It was more then a few minutes later when they finally emerged, clothes and hair more or less arranged. Kirra's faint flush and slightly swollen lips the only sign of the reason they were late, but that could be overlooked easily enough.

Kirra slipped her hand into Gawain's. Trepidation was setting in and she could feel her heart picking up. Questions she was afraid to voice whirled through her head.

What if Gareth had been wrong and she didn't fit in? What if the men didn't like her? What if, on retrospect, they were intimidated or scared by what she'd done and wouldn't come to her, making her presence completely obsolete?

More importantly, would she be able to recognize Tristan? How would he feel about this whole crazy thing? She glanced up at Gawain; he had shortened his stride to match her smaller one and was strolling unconcernedly at her pace. He didn't appear worried, but what if Tristan didn't approve? She remembered what Gawain had said about him the morning after they were married. Would he make life hard on Gawain? Was he really all that Gawain had alluded to?

Gawain looked down at Kirra's pale face and paused, raising his hand to tuck a loose tendril behind her ear, "They won't eat you, Kirra. You've met almost everyone. Bors has been spreading quite a story and Gareth and Galahad are interested to learn if he was stretching the truth."

"I'm more worried about Tristan." She admitted in a small voice.

Gawain squeezed her hand gently and smiled, "I wouldn't worry too much. I haven't been able to find him."

Kirra wasn't sure if she was happy about that or disappointed.

They reached the tavern without further conversation. It wasn't all that far from the barracks. The raucous noise and unceasing activity of the place made Kirra feel as young and naïve as she was. It was intimidating, but she took comfort from the fact that she was with Gawain and he seemed big enough and confident enough to take on anything or anyone.

He led her to the back to a long table where Gareth and Galahad were eating. Kirra seemed to relax a little at the sight of the two youngest knights.

"Hello boys," she said dropping Gawain's hand and giving them each a kiss on the cheek.

Galahad caught her attention and she paused for a moment in front of him and peered into his eyes. She could feel anger vibrating through his body and now could see it barely veiled behind his eyes. Her breath caught as she touched his hand and she whispered a few unintelligible words under her breath.

Galahad watched Kirra warily as her eyes darkened in impotent rage, then cooled to their customary silver. She smiled gently at him and when she did, he felt some of his helpless frustration and anger fade. He gaped at her in amazement and she squeezed the hand she held then turned back to Gawain. He was returning from the long bar with two plates. He sat beside her and put a plate of something that resembled a pot pie in front of her. A girl came by leaving a couple of cups and a clay pitcher of something.

Kirra picked up her spoon, "So, what's for dinner?" .

"Steak and kidney pie tonight," Galahad said.

Kirra eyed her deceivingly innocent dinner of golden pastry and gravy covered lumps and shuddered, "Ew."

"It's actually quite good."

Kirra pinned him with a hard look, "Do you know what the kidney _does_?"

Galahad grinned and took a big bite, "No."

She raised her eyebrow and grinned wolfishly, "Well then, just keep eating."

He merely swallowed and took another huge bite. Kirra turned to Gawain, "At least now I know you aren't the only one who thinks he has to inhale his food." He didn't comment – his mouth was full.

"You know, Kirra. When you smile like that it almost makes me lose my appetite." Galahad said around a mouthful.

"Watching you shovel it in makes me lose mine – as if eating kidneys wasn't bad enough."

"So, you're not going to eat tonight?" Gareth asked. He had finished his dinner and was eyeing hers hopefully.

Kirra sighed, "I am. I am just praying I get more steak then kidney."

She took a small bite. It wasn't that bad, in fact, if she hadn't been told what it was, she wouldn't have thought it anything more then a beef pot pie. She took a bigger bite.

"I think that was a kidney," Galahad said with a grin.

Kirra narrowed her eyes and forced herself to keep chewing and not throw up. Gawain and Gareth laughed at her determined expression and Gawain slid his drink in front of her. She swallowed then half emptied the cup – which caused her eyes to water and her tongue to shrivel. She gasped and started coughing.

"_Damn_," she croaked when she had control of herself. "Are you trying to kill me? What _is_ that?"

Gawain frowned and peered into his cup, "Ale."

Gareth and Galahad were beside themselves. Tears were practically running down their cheeks, they were laughing so hard.

Kirra stared at Gawain, who was chuckling now too. "I have never drank – not even a floofy girl drink, in my life. There is no way I can drink that and not get thoroughly smashed." Even now she could feel a slight, something, that wasn't normal for her.

The knights laughed even harder.

"That might be interesting," Gareth pointed out.

Kirra slid her plate to Gareth and stood up, appetite gone. She didn't mind the teasing, but her tongue was still protesting the recent abuse, "I think I see Vanora. I'm going to check on the baby."

"Don't go, Kirra," Gareth pleaded. "We haven't laughed this much since --" he looked at Galahad conspiratorially.

Galahad picked up the story, "-- since Gawain," – his eyes flicked to Gawain.

Gawain's eyes narrowed in warning, "You had better think long and hard about what is to come out of your mouth." He said in a low, dangerous voice.

Kirra paused, intrigued. If Gawain hadn't said anything she would have just waved it off and gone on her way over to Vanora, but now she had to know, "Since he what?"

The two youngest knights were howling laughter now, so much that they almost couldn't speak. Gawain was tense, wondering what exploit they were going to confess to Kirra and how he was going to fix it.

"– got caught with his pants down -- " Gareth snorted.

Gawain suddenly got to his feet, but too late.

Galahad finished, "– with the miller's wife."

"Or was it the baker's?" Gareth asked, shaking in laughter.

Gawain put his fists on the table and leaned across it towards his brother and Galahad, "You two are dead." He hissed angrily.

Kirra shook her head, "That is just wrong," she said, unsure if she should be horrified or not.

She turned to Gawain. His jaw was hard and he was staring daggers at his fellow knights. His face was also a brilliant shade of red. But before he could respond, Vanora had smacked both Gareth and Galahad in the back of the head. Hard. Their laughter stopped abruptly.

"Sorry 'bout these two," she said with a disapproving frown. "They never learned manners."

Kirra laughed at the sheepish expressions that painted the younger knights' faces. She turned to Gawain eyebrows upraised for an explanation.

"I was fifteen, Kirra," he said stiffly.

She giggled and squeezed his arm reassuringly, "Ah well, so long ago. I'll just be sure to keep you away from anyone who has anything to do with the making of buns."

He sat back down, still glowering at his brother.

"How's Nine?" Kirra asked Vanora.

The woman looked exhausted. Dark circles painted her under lids. Kirra remembered that Gawain had said something about her being pregnant and near due. She certainly didn't look pregnant now, so the baby must have come and between it and Nine's accident the woman wasn't getting enough sleep.

Her smooth brow creased in concern, "Still sleepin'. Is that normal? It's been a long while now."

Kirra smiled, "No, it's perfectly fine. Her body had to go through some rapid changes to heal like it did. It makes anyone tired. Gawain slept for almost two whole days."

"You did that to him, too?" Vanora asked in amazement.

Kirra nodded, pleased with herself. But before she could get another word out, Bors came in followed by Dagonet and Lancelot. He exuberantly slung his arm around her shoulders.

"Here's the little miracle worker," He said loudly as he gave her a rather sloppy kiss on the cheek.

Kirra turned pink when other tavern patrons turned to see what the commotion was about. Oh sure, ignore a couple of howling knights, but listen to the big one when he makes a scene. She tried to duck under Bors' arm, but he was having none of it.

"Where you goin' to? We got to celebrate tonight. My little bastard is healed and because of you."

That turned even more heads. Kirra could hear them murmuring and she wasn't sure if she was up to being the center of attention quite yet.

"That's okay, really. I was just on my way out." Kirra said.

"Kirra can't hold her drink, Bors," Gareth called.

Bors looked down at her and narrowed his eyes, "Wha'? A Sarmatian that can't drink? That's like findin' one that can't ride."

Kirra looked over to Gawain with pleading eyes. _Get me out of this._ But once again it was Vanora who came to the rescue.

"And just what do you think you're doin' here? I thought you were watchin' the little one." She placed her hands on her hips and glared at Bors.

The men quieted and seemed to melt away from the angry woman. Bors released Kirra rather too quickly in his haste to explain and placate the mother of his children. Kirra lost her balance and would have gone tumbling if Lancelot hadn't been there to steady her. She scowled at his smirk.

"I knew you'd fall for me sooner or later," He commented in a smooth voice.

Kirra stared at him for a moment then pushed out of his arms, "That's the best you've got? Somehow, I expected," – she deliberately looked him up and down appraisingly – "more." She turned away with a toss of her head leaving Lancelot standing with his mouth hanging open.

His brief expression of astonishment was just too much and the knights laughed. Kirra was sure she even saw Dagonet crack a little smile.

"How is Nine?" She asked the big man, trying to ignore his intimidating size and appearance.

"She looks much better and she is sleeping comfortably." He said slowly in a deep voice that Kirra could feel in her bones.

Kirra looked around and saw Bors and Vanora still in the middle of their argument. Gawain was laughing – and drinking -- with Gareth and Galahad and Lancelot had wandered to a table and sat with a woman on his lap and was gambling. It was getting dark outside and Kirra had the feeling that the night would only go downhill from then on.

"Could you take me to where she is, so that I can check on her?" she asked the tall knight.

"Yes."

Kirra had him wait a moment while she told Gawain where she was going. He turned from Kirra and gave Dagonet a very pointed look, to which the large man gave a slight nod. Kirra pressed a kiss to his lips and was at Dagonet's side in an instant.

"What was that all about?" she asked on the way out.

"What?" Dagonet asked.

Kirra gestured flippantly, "Gawain's look, your nod."

She heard him chuckle, "He was telling me to keep on eye on you or he'd kill me."

"All that in one look," Kirra muttered. "Do you really think that's necessary?"

Dag looked at the small woman walking silently beside him and then out into the deepening twilight. He knew someone was there watching, "No."

"Why is that?" she asked casually.

Another deep chuckle, "You'll never go anywhere here unwatched."

"Hmm."

They stopped in front of a little house with a fence running around it. The sound of children yelling and dogs barking could be heard from the gate. Kirra looked up at Dag.

"This must be the place."

He nodded, smiling, and opened the gate.

Not surprising, the baby was awake when Kirra looked in on her and immediately toddled over to her requesting she be picked up. Kirra obliged and examined the little girl's face closely. Everything looked good, the swelling was gone and the child's color was normal. She tickled the toddler and got her laughing as she talked with Vanora's oldest daughter – who was a mere three years younger.

According to One, Nine had eaten a good dinner and was even trying to get at the newest babe. Kirra smiled at this and showed the girl how to bathe the toddler's stitches. She got to know the other children and played a brief, but rowdy, game of tag in the small yard. She left One with the promise of a tea in the morning and the others with a promise to return soon for more games. Both would be for Vanora – to help boost her energy and give her the opportunity to rest without interruption. It was quite dark out when Kirra and Dag left.

"You are good with children," Dagonet praised as they walked back to the barracks.

"Oh, not really. I'm so close to being one myself."

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

Dag shook his head.

Kirra sighed, "I know, to you it's not young. Where I was raised, it's very young and I feel a little girl. Especially being here where everything is so new and different. It worries me a little that I won't be able to adjust to it."

"You'll be fine," he said confidently.

"I know. I have to be.

They walked in companionable silence for a moment.

"Dagonet?"

"Yes."

"Where's Tristan?"

Dag paused, should he tell the girl Tristan had been trailing them the whole time, "He'll find you. Give him time."

Kirra peered out into the darkness for a moment, "Okay."

They arrived at the barracks and Dag showed her to Gawain's room.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to find this place on my own," she said with a laugh as she pushed the door open. Finn was waiting for dinner and dancing in his need to go out. Dag followed her as she attended the dog then left her safely ensconced in the room to wait for Gawain.


	21. Chapter 21

**#21 Family**

The last few days had been busy and Kirra had been kept on her toes. It would seem that everyone in the village knew of what she had done for Vanora's child and was interested in having her help them out too.

Arthur still had not decided where to put her or maybe he had forgotten about her. Which was mildly frustrating, she needed a place to set up her herbs and things. She needed a place where the people could come and feel comfortable – the knights' barracks was _not_ that place. The people were intimidated by the knight and the man were growing annoyed at the people that always seemed under foot.

And Kirra felt somewhat uncomfortable staying in Gawain's room. Not uncomfortable with him, but with the knowing looks and suggestive grins she received whenever the other knights saw her coming or going. She sensed that a woman had never been allowed to stay in the barracks before. There never had been a need before.

_Roman_ _slaves_.

She thought bitterly one early morning as she lay in bed. It would take time to come to terms with the fact that here her people were just that -- that she was also just that. A slave didn't marry therefore any lovers they did have were had in different places.

Even Bors kept Vanora apart from the barracks. Kirra was unsure as to why she had been allowed to stay; maybe it wasn't a permanent thing. It made her sick to think of being separated from Gawain so soon after having arrived. There was still so much she was unsure about and he was so solid and warm. The only constant thing in her life and, she loved him.

She slipped quietly from the bed, so as not to wake him and groped in the dark for her dress. Finn looked up at her from his place on the floor and thumped his tail in greeting before yawning and going back to sleep. It was too early in the morning for him to be awake yet.

Finding her dress on the chair where she had left it the night before, Kirra put it on, shivering slightly in the cool room. She found her cloak and slippers and grabbed her comb from the little table, then quickly tiptoed across the room to the door. As she opened it, she winced at its creak of protest and her eyes flicked to Gawain. He rolled to his stomach, burying his face in her pillow. Once he was again still, Kirra released the breath she had been holding, exited the room and closed the door.

Outside, she put on her slippers and was fastening her cloak when she felt the now familiar feeling of someone watching her. It seemed to her that almost from the moment she had arrived here that someone was tailing her, following her and watching her wherever she went. No matter how hard she looked, she could never see anyone, but she knew someone was there and it made her nervous.

_Well_, she thought defiantly, sick of the feeling. _If someone wants_ _to be awake this early too and follow me around then more power to them._

--------------------------

Tristan followed the young woman, slipping in and out of the shadows, as she made her way in the direction of the stable. Arthur had called him in and questioned him extensively about her not long after she and Gawain had unexpectedly shown up following Gareth and Galahad. It had piqued his curiosity because he had been unable to answer any of the questions. Tristan had no idea who the young woman was -- why should he? He hadn't asked Arthur why, only made note to find out who she was. Arthur had asked him to keep an eye on her and report back.

Tristan had been slightly annoyed by the request; why should he have to watch _this_ woman? He didn't care in the least bit who the other knight look as lovers, so why should this be any different? Though, it was highly unusual that Arthur had given permission for her to stay in the barracks and that caught his insatiable curiosity.

He had found that his task was rather easy, as the woman followed Gawain about or was in his room tending to the masses – this annoyed Tristan further. It made everything difficult that she was constantly surrounded by people – and Tristan didn't particularly like people. His luck had been that he had found on the first morning that she seemed to enjoy rising early.

He had woken to the sound of a door creaking open, so naturally he had to find out who it was. None of his fellows woke that early if they didn't have to. Normally the other knights were sleeping off the effects of the previous night's recreation, or they were somewhere else altogether -- still with the previous night's recreation, so a door opening so early in the morning was unusual and Tristan had to find out what it was.

It had been her.

He slipped out of his room as silently as always, but noted somewhat uncomfortably as he had with the previous night, that the woman could sense him. For an eternal moment, she had peered into the shadow where he was hiding. She had even come towards him, so close that he thought for sure she would see him, but she hadn't. At that point it hadn't really mattered because he had clearly seen her. And for the first time in a long time, Tristan was caught unawares.

Except for her eyes, which were a clear and startling grey, the young woman looked exactly like his mother, down to the way she moved when she walked. He must have made some sound because the woman's eyes darkened with fear before she spun on her heel and ran down the corridor. She was quite a bit quicker then he would have thought.

Tristan, of course had followed her, she only got as far as the stables before stopping and entering a stall. It was the stall of the black mare that he had stopped to admire the day before. He had silently entered the empty stall next to her and heard her breathing hard and whispering to the mare in a language which he couldn't understand.

She didn't come out either, until Gawain came and found her and Tristan heard the young woman tell Gawain about someone being in the hall watching her and he knew Gawain would know it was he, just as Dag had. But he stayed hidden anyway, listening and was surprised when Gawain didn't tell the woman, Kirra – her name brought a painful twinge in the region of Tristan's heart. Gawain only told her that it must have been a ghost.

She must have not appreciated the teasing because Tristan next heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh and saw Gawain leave the stall, laughing and rubbing his arm. The woman soon followed, muttering under her breath in that unknown language.

After that, Tristan had taken to following her every chance she got. It amazed him that none of the men told her how much she resembled him or perhaps they had before he had started following her. He knew they could not have failed to see it the moment they met her, but none had said a word, only watched her in curiosity.

What really bothered Tristan was that no one had thought to tell him; even Arthur had not when he had called him in and told him to watch her. Perhaps they thought he knew and why not, it was very seldom that Tristan didn't know what was going on. But in this case, he had no clue as to why _she_ would appear now.

The young woman in front of him began to hum, causing him to pause; it was a tune he hadn't heard in years. One his grandmother had sung. She was combing out her dark hair as she walked silently down the hall.

She was tiny and Tristan wondered briefly if his mother had ever been that small. Though he had been a man when he had been taken, he had been small – only just taller then she. He had reached his full growth here on the island as he played death games with its inhabitants. Now that he was older he wondered how his mother would measure up to his taller stature. The thought pained him.

He didn't want to think of home and he certainly never spoke of it. Speaking of it only served to remind him of what he was -- a slave -- with no rights or privileges of any sort. It made him think of what he longed to forget: the battles he had fought, the blood he had spilt, and the lives he had taken over the years all because he had been forced to. Could his mother have even recognized him? Or would she see only the blood that covered his hands and feel only the darkness of his mind?

_No_.

He ground his teeth and forced those thoughts from his mind. He couldn't think like that. To think like that was to sink into despair and despair made one slow. It was a luxury

Tristan couldn't afford.

He turned and focused on the task at hand. Kirra had entered the stable and was plaiting her hair into a fat braid. She tied it off and suddenly wheeled about on her heel, catching Tristan off guard, _Damn_, he thought as he moved to the shadow but was too slow and she caught sight of him.

Her grey eyes flashed as she said, "I know you are there, so just come out. I am tired of this game." Her voice was oddly accented.

Tristan slid smoothly from the shadow. He must have been closer then she thought because she startled and fell back a pace. She recovered quickly and demanded, "Who are you?"

She was brave to confront him like this, alone and unprotected. He said nothing and waited to see what she would do.

She drew a step closer, "I know it's you who's been following me. I could feel you watching me." Tristan gave no indication that this bothered him. "If you wanted to talk to me all you had to do was walk up to me and say so. I don't like being played with." Her voice was calm but he could feel the sharp edge to her words.

As she continued to advance on him, Tristan was more and more amazed at the resemblance between her and his mother. There were a few differences, Kirra's lips were fuller and her high cheekbones softer, but her nose, and her eyes, by the gods even her brow was the same. She had stopped inches away from Tristan, closer then he liked, and looked up into his face. Her steady grey eyes narrowed in thought, then widened, the expression unreadable.

Kirra brought her hand up slowly to push the hair out of Tristan's face, so she could see his eyes; eyes which, shockingly enough, were the same shape as her own. Tristan stiffened as she gently brushed her small fingers across the markings on his cheeks, he did not want to be touched, not by this woman who looked so like another he once knew.

Kirra had cocked her head to the side and was looking intently at the markings as if trying to piece together a puzzle. She whispered something so faintly that Tristan almost didn't catch it.

"Wanderer."

When it registered to his slowly numbing mind, he stepped away from her; equal parts pain and wonder written on his normally stoic face. No one had ever even pretended to know what his tattoos meant, not even the tribal shaman had known. No one but he and the goddess who gave him the marks as a boy knew what they signified and he had never told anyone, never told _her_.

"I know you."

Her voice was soft and low and stunned. She stepped even closer to him, claiming one of his hands before he had a chance to escape and Tristan wanted to escape. He wanted to flee from the avalanche of memories that was threatening to bury him, but, as he had done countless times before, he forced himself to stand firm.

Kirra held onto his clenched fist with both of her small, slender hands until he relaxed and then she stroked his calloused palm, "I remember you."

She was in shock, but couldn't stop talking. Why wouldn't she just stop? Tristan wanted to throw his hands over his ears, he didn't want to know what she remembered, but she continued in a voice that was low and sad.

"I remember you. I remember those. No one knew where you had received them and I was always afraid the goddess would take me and give me marks like them." Tristan closed his eyes unwilling to remember.

"You would laugh at me and call me … imp. Tell me that the goddess had no use for such a skinny, little, girl."

Tristan's eyes suddenly snapped open, heart constricting in his chest; he didn't want to believe who this woman claimed to be. Though he knew it was true and had known in those first moments he had seen her. She was studying his hand as if it could tell her his secrets.

"Then when I cried in fear, you wiped my tears away and told me that they came from the goddess and they were to guide and protect you and if the goddess ever chose to take me away, it would be done in her wisdom and for my own good …" Kirra looked at him again, her eyes misty with memory and she smiled wistfully, "Then you promised to take me riding if I would stop crying."

Over Kirra's head, Tristan saw Gawain, Gareth, and Galahad walk into the stable, the girl's brute dog with them. They stopped short and fell quiet when they saw him and Kirra. Tristan tried to pull his hand from her grasp but she hung on and hissed.

"_No_."

Kirra feared that if she let him get away now, she may never remember everything. The memories were coming like bubbles into her mind and she didn't want them to burst before she knew what they contained. She felt Tristan's discomfort and saw the pain in his eyes. He knew who she was, but she sensed that he on his own would never have told her, so she clung to him like a drowning person too panicked to care if she dragged him down with her.

Tristan looked back down at Kirra, her jaw was set and there was pain in her eyes.

"I remember the day the Romans came."

Tristan's jaw hardened and he glanced at the watching men, his eyes flicking rapidly from them and back to the girl. He didn't want his fellow knights to hear this.

Kirra ignored his darkening eyes and continued speaking, "Mother," -- Tristan flinched -- "was trying to pry my hand from yours and I was throwing a magnificent fit – kicking and hitting. I couldn't understand what was happening." Kirra's eyes filled with tears, "All I knew is that there were bad men who were coming to take you away. When I asked when you would be coming back, no one answered and no one looked at me. I knew what they meant, though -- that you would never be coming back." Her voice broke and she dropped his hand. Tristan didn't move only waited, it was too late to run now.

"Then as you rode away, I ran after screaming your name over and over," The tears in her deep grey eyes spilled over and poured down her face. Surprising himself, Tristan moved to take her face in his hands to again wipe her tears away, the tears of his baby sister, but at once Kirra pulled back, anger and old betrayal written on her painfully familiar features, "You never looked back, never once, and I was left alone, Tristan" She had found his name at last and now it hung on the air like a curse.

She took another step away from him, her face ghostly pale, "You left me alone and I couldn't find you. I … I … I couldn't find anyone."

Then she turned and ran, pushing between Gawain and Galahad without seeing them. They looked at Tristan for a moment. His arms hung limply at his side, the expression on his face was dark and unreadable. He seemed to not see them either.

Gawain glowered at Tristan and turned on his heel to follow Kirra and Tristan swung his gaze to Gareth and Galahad, daring them to say something. The two youngest knights backed away and quickly left the stable, Finn closely following Galahad. It would be worth more then their lives to say anything to Tristan this day.

------------------------

Gawain finally found Kirra sitting on the hillside next to a burial mound. She was pulling up the grass, rolling it into little balls, and flicking them into the smoking chalice at the foot of the grave.

"You know, that is very disrespectful."

Kirra turned her icy, livid gaze to him and spitefully flicked another grass ball. It landed in the cup with a little hiss and she turned back to her grass ball making. Gawain settled himself beside her.

"Well, I guess Eric wouldn't mind. He would probably do the same thing."

Kirra didn't answer, but made to stand up. Gawain grabbed her wrist and forced her to stay sitting.

"What happened back there?"

"I don't want to talk about it," She growled. "And let go of my arm."

Gawain frowned but didn't relinquish her appendage, "Not until you tell me."

Kirra tore herself free and turned to glare at her husband. Gawain nearly flinched from the murderous look in her darkened eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me? Hmm? Was it some sick game to see how long it would take before I saw him? You've known he was following me all along, haven't you? And you never deemed it important enough to let me know?" Kirra looked as though she were going to hit him.

"Kirra, I wanted to introduce you properly, face to face. For some reason I thought that would be the best thing. I did tell you I couldn't find Tristan." Gawain sighed. "And when Tristan does not want to be found, he won't be."

"That is a pathetic excuse," Kirra hissed.

"Perhaps, but it is truth," He rubbed her arms. "You know I would never have hurt you on purpose."

The anger simmering in Kirra's eyes faded a bit as she accepted his apology, "I know, but you still should have told me. Someone should have, I mean, you all know. Anyone who has met either of us could not help but notice the resemblance. It was a horrid thing to do."

"It won't happen again."

Kirra gave Gawain a dry look, "No kidding."

He grinned and hugged her to him and she allowed herself to be squeezed for a moment before pulling away, "I am still mad at you, though, so don't think that you've gotten off the hook."

"What can I do to make it up to you?"

Kirra thought, then smiled slyly, "You have to go and ask Arthur when I get to set up shop and where. I am sick to death of having no where to work and I know it annoys you all. And," she took a deep breath. "I would like to have my own room."

Hurt crossed Gawain's features and Kirra tugged a lock of his long hair, "It's only because I feel so uncomfortable. Everyone looks at me with that little smirk and I know they think that I am your" -- she paused and wrinkled her nose -- "you know."

Gawain smiled at her reticence and finished her sentence, "Lover?"

"Thank you," she said sardonically.

"Well, you are."

"That may be true, but the way they use that particular word makes me feel dirty, like I am one of those tavern workers."

"I'll get them to stop using that title," Gawain promised. "And really it will not matter if you move out of my room or not, the others will still know what we are."

She leveled him with a glance, "No they won't, not unless one of us tells them the truth and until that happens, I want my own room."

"It will make things more difficult."

Kirra groused, "For you or for me?"

"Kirra! You are just being argumentative now and childish."

She stiffened and crossed her arms over her chest, "Well, that's what I am and if you don't like it, tough, because you're stuck."

Gawain shook his head stubbornly and again hugged her stiff form to him. He loosened her braid and shook her long hair free, "No. You are a beautiful young woman who is taking her anger out on her helpless man."

Kirra relaxed, "I am being awful, but I can't seem to help it today." Her voice was muffled against Gawain's chest. "And I don't really want my own room; I just don't want to be looked at like some sort of freak."

He chuckled and Kirra felt the sound throb through her body. "No _freak_, agreed. So, what _did_ happen back there?"

Kirra looked over the graves to the rising sun, "I remembered who I was, really remembered and I remembered who … he was." She had a hard time saying Tristan's name.

"And?" Gawain prompted, nudging her with his shoulder.

"Do you think that he would want me to be telling you this?" Kirra asked the question, knowing the answer.

"Tristan? Definitely not, but then, he is not one to tell much of anything, so I will just have to depend on you for that."

"And if I get in trouble for it?"

"I am sure that all of us together could protect you from him, maybe."

"How reassuring."

Kirra knew Gawain was jesting, but knew that under most jests there is an ounce of truth. If Tristan was as Gawain was leading her to believe, then what kind of life had he lead? What type of person was he? She remembered him as quiet, but she had never doubted that he had loved her even though she had been so much younger then he. She looked up and found Gawain watching her and waiting.

"I don't remember everything, and much of what I do is still a bit fuzzy. He is my brother, but he is quite a bit older. I think I was a surprise, because Tristan was the youngest, until I came. He was perhaps twelve when I was born. Our parents were old and I don't remember any other siblings, so I attached myself to him. He was the only one who could control me."

Gawain chuckled, "A wild one even then, huh."

Kirra smiled sadly, "Yeah, I used to throw fits until he took me with him wherever he was going. My mother let me go, just to get some peace, I think. Anyway, he was my hero." She sat unmoving for a long time, deep in thought, examining the memories that were rushing back.

"Come on," Gawain said after some time had passed. "Let's go find Gareth and Galahad and make sure Tristan didn't cut their eyes out or remove their ears for being at the wrong place at the wrong time."

"That's not nice," Kirra swatted him.

Gawain's brow creased, "You think I am teasing? How do you think Eric died?"

"Well, considering that I am the only sister Tristan has, I would have to assume the man died on a battlefield somewhere and not on account of Tristan or his anger over me. I sincerely think that you all are afraid of nothing but smoke and mirrors."

Gawain had never thought of that. Tristan had made him uneasy since their first meeting. Perhaps it was his silence or perhaps it was the fact that the man was unflappable in the face of unimaginable odds, Gawain didn't know. But still, even after all their years of service, there was something about the scout that made one wary. Apparently, it was not a sentiment to be shared by Kirra – or she just didn't know him well enough yet.

"Well, you may be right, but you have never seen him in battle."

The thought seemed to trouble Kirra, "And I hope to never." She looked up into Gawain's blue eyes and hugged herself. "I hope never to see you that way, either. Let me have my undisturbed, if slightly skewed, thoughts of you all. I watched a lot of movies, so I have an idea in my mind of what you must be capable of, but my heart can't take the thought. Life here is too precarious."

"I didn't mean to upset you, love," Gawain said in earnest. He could feel Kirra's sorrow and unease at the thought of her husband and her brother being feral killers – which they were, one more so than the other. "We can't help what we have become."

Kirra suddenly shook her head to clear her troubling thoughts and smiled alluringly, "I think that I have a better idea then finding the boys," she ran a finger across Gawain's cheek, "why don't we take advantage of their scarcity and …"

Gawain's expression changed when he caught the meaning of Kirra's words and at the change she jumped to her feet and darted deeper into the trees leading him on a merry chase before he caught her and made her finish her sentence.


	22. Chapter 22

**#22 Brother**

Kirra had not seen Tristan since the day he had tracked her into the stable. She could feel him watching her, but he was never careless enough to let her see him again. It frustrated her and she grew cranky at the stress.

One morning as she was angrily chopping herbs, Gawain gently took her knife from her and laid it on the table.

"Just go find him," he said. "You won't feel better until you do."

Kirra looked up startled, tears of frustration forming in her eyes. She brushed them away impatiently, "I just don't get it. Why does he have to be so childish? I know he's following me -- like some deranged ghost." She purposefully raised her voice; no doubt Tristan was nearby and would hear it.

"I can't take a step without feeling it and yet he won't talk to me," She stomped her foot.

Gawain chuckled and hugged her rigid body, holding her and rubbing her back until she relaxed against him, "Tristan is not much of a talker. He never has been. He won't allow anyone to get close to him and so we have all learned to let him be. You will have to be the one who corners him."

Kirra heaved a sigh and rubbed her face against his chest, "I know."

He chuckled and tried to resist the fire that warm friction sent speeding through him, "You had better go now, because I rather like it when you do that and if you wait much longer, I'll not let you go – for awhile at least."

Kirra rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah. Thanks for the pep talk." Her face softened, "I love you, you know."

Gawain kissed her gently, "I know and I love you. Now go find your brother before you chop off a finger. It might be a finger I miss."

Kirra laughed as she left the room.

It was a lot harder to find Tristan when she was looking for him then when she wasn't. When she wasn't, she always felt his eyes on her, but he must have heard her conversation with Gawain and was hiding somewhere. Funny, she never would have pegged him for an avoider.

She stopped by the tavern. Vanora was a gossip and always knew what was going on, so reason said she may know where Tristan went when he was hiding out. She didn't and couldn't help Kirra out at all -- Nine was doing well and the others were asking when she was coming to visit again. Without any ability to help, Kirra left soon with a promise to do just that.

She wandered uselessly almost all day before she thought of asking Dag – and felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. He watched people almost as much as Tristan and was much easier to both find and approach. She found him in the stable mending his saddle girth.

"Dag?"

"Hello, lovely," He said looking up from his work.

Kirra smiled. Dag was fast becoming one of her favorites. He was so quiet and had such a calm manner about him that one was instantly comfortable – once you got over his huge size.

"How was your day?" she asked him.

"Fine," he paused and watched her for a moment. "But I doubt you found me to ask that."

Kirra shook her head ruefully, "Sorry. Have you seen Tristan?"

Dag was silent for a moment.

Kirra huffed, "I know you have. Do you know where he is?"

He nodded slowly and got to his feet, "Come with me."

"Thank you, Dag. I owe you," She said, trotting after him.

They found Tristan at the top of a steep hill not far from the village. He was standing motionless watching a small dark dot drift on the air currents. At the faint scream of a hawk, he turned sharply. Seeing who it was, he relaxed. Dag nodded a farewell and left the siblings to talk. Kirra went to stand beside Tristan and looked out over the landscape.

"It's beautiful up here," she said.

She let the wind toss her hair and closed her eyes to feel the heat of the sun on her face. She hadn't had much time to herself since she had gotten here. It was nice to be able to relax and enjoy the beautiful weather. When she opened them she caught Tristan staring at her.

"Why have you been avoiding me?"

"Not you," his voice was low. "The memories you stir."

Kirra's brow puckered, "I can't help that."

"No, you can't. It is for me to work through."

"Alone?"

Tristan looked down, "I don't want to remember."

Kirra's eyes hardened and she clenched her fists, "I do."

"You remember nothing?"

"Very little. I was very sick and the fever seemed to wipe my memory – that or the Niara did it. I should have asked her."

Tristan looked over in sudden interest, "Niara?"

"Do you remember an old woman that came to my birth?"

Tristan nodded slowly, "It was said she came to mine as well. But she was so old, I didn't believe it."

Kirra snorted, "You should have. She is the oldest of the handmaids of the goddess. She's ageless. She was at Gawain's birth and Gareth's, no doubt the rest, too. She took me from our parents when I became sick and put me where I would be taken care of. Her interference kept me alive."

"Why should you need to be kept alive?" Tristan asked without realizing how harsh he sounded.

Kirra blinked and chose not to let his words bother her, "That I don't know. Niara only said that I was saved to come back here and take care of all you – I think that's it anyway. Gawain was sent for me because I couldn't return on my own."

"Ah."

She laughed at that small sound of denial. Tristan turned to look at her, his eyes piercing.

"I am not going to ask if you approve or not. It doesn't matter. It's done and I love him."

Tristan shook his head, "It's not right."

Kirra took his wrist in her small hand, suddenly as serious as he was, "It is -- completely right. I need him and he needs me. He and I learned that together, don't sully it, Tristan."

Her eyes darkened, "We are the last. The last of our tribe," She let that and all its implications sink in. "I don't know how or when, but Niara told me that and I believe her. You have to survive the remainder of your servitude. You all do -- so here I am."

Tristan was surprised at the passion Kirra spoke with, the utter conviction in her gray eyes. He couldn't help believing her. She wouldn't lie to him. He nodded curtly.

""Our tribe and the Alannis are great rivals."

"Think of it as a convenient merging," Kirra said dropping his wrist.

He raised an eyebrow, "Merging?"

Kirra shot him a pained look, "Oh, please. If you haven't figured it out, I'm not going to tell you."

"Is there hope for you to be paired with another?"

"You hate him so much?"

Tristan's eyes tightened. He could never hate one of his brothers, "No -- the idea of my sister with a slave. And he is below your station, even were he not a slave."

Kirra met his eyes steadily, "I'll never be paired with another."

He nodded. He saw how they looked at one another, how the rest of the world seemed to fade and not matter when they were together. Perhaps it was better that Kirra reside in the barracks. Perhaps Arthur had seen that much.

"Will you be my brother, Tristan?" she asked softly, begged really.

Kirra was not beneath begging. Though she had loved Lil and Scott with all her heart, she had always longed to find some member of her biological family, to know where she had come from and where she belonged. It would crush her if Tristan denied her now.

"I never stopped, Imp."

Kirra sighed in relief and wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning her head on his arm. He tucked her under his arm and the two stood frozen in the moment for a long while, watching a bird as it dived and played in the wind.


	23. Chapter 23

**#23 The Way Things Are**

Jols found Kirra grooming her small spotted mare. She was singing to the animal in a low, happy voice in some language he didn't understand, but the mare did and she seemed relaxed. She stood with her head hanging down, completely at ease, until she caught his scent. Then her head came up and her ears pricked forward. Kirra looked over to see what had caught Jin's attention.

"Hello, Jols," she said with a grin.

Jols returned the smile and felt himself relaxing. Unlike her brother, Kirra was a comfortable type of person. She was usually happy and always had a kind word. But like Tristan, she had the ability to silence a person with a single look. It was an interesting combination.

"Kirra. Arthur would like to speak with you, if you have a moment. I can finish with Jin."

"That would be great, thanks," Kirra handed him the curry comb. "Where exactly is Arthur?"

"In his private study. Follow the corridor until you see the guard."

Kirra nodded and strode quickly from the stable. Her heart had picked up a little at Jols' first announcement. She wondered what Arthur could possibly need to talk to her about. She was able to find her way around easier now and so it didn't take long until she found the guard Jols had been speaking of. He scowled down at her.

"Arthur wanted to see me," she told him coolly, unwilling to let him intimidate her.

It took a moment longer for the guard to decide that Kirra didn't look a threat and he stood aside and let her enter the door to the Roman commander's rooms.

Arthur's private study was dominated by a large desk and a bookcase of sorts. Hundreds of rolls of parchment were shoved into every available space and Kirra found herself drawn to it. She wondered what they had to say or if they were just maps.

"Kirra," Arthur said in greeting as he entered a side door. "Thanks for coming."

She shrugged, "Well, I did have to leave a bleeding patient, but figured your summons outweighed that. Just teasing," She amended at his look of alarm. "I was grooming one of my horses."

Arthur relaxed and Kirra wondered if he had a sense of humor.

"They are fine looking animals. The smaller is especially interesting."

"You might be the first to think that. Mostly everyone here looks at her like there is something wrong with her. She's a good a horse, very calm and a good mover."

"That's good," Arthur commented. Getting to the point he said, "I called you in because I have found a place for your surgery."

Kirra's brows shot up, "Really?"

He nodded, "It will need a bit of work, but," he smiled, "you should have plenty of help with that."

"Can I see it?" Kirra could barely contain her excitement.

Arthur chuckled, "Of course. Come with me." He led her from his rooms and nodded to the guard outside his door as they passed.

"How are you adjusting?" He asked Kirra as they walked.

Kirra was quiet a moment as she thought, "Fine, I guess. I'm not used to the drafty cold rooms and am a little leery of some of the things that are served at the tavern, but I am finding I enjoy it here. I like the people who come to be healed and I really enjoy being around the men – Gareth and Galahad keep me on my toes."

"Those two keep everyone on their toes," Arthur said with a wry smile. Too often he had been the target of one of their endless jokes.

"Yes, but I am so much smaller then everyone else -- they like to pick on me,"

She qualified.

"And Gawain?"

"Oh, he likes to pick on me too, but I let _him_ get away with it," she laughed.

"I meant, what does he say about Gareth and Galahad?"

"Nothing."

Arthur studied the girl for a moment. She had answered if that was no problem and he was surprised that Gawain would allow such behavior. He knew what Galahad and Gareth could do when they put their heads together.

Kirra fixed him with a pained expression, "I am not completely helpless, Arthur. I don't need Gawain to come to my rescue every time they tease me. They are not spiteful or mean, just themselves. I don't mind. I would rather be teased then ignored."

"And what does Tristan say?"

"Oh, he probably threatens them with certain death, but they must not be very afraid of him because they keep it up."

Arthur once again adopted his look of alarm.

Kirra giggled, "I'm just teasing again. Tristan hasn't said anything to them and I promise not to let him kill them."

Arthur slowly smiled at the strange little creature. No doubt she kept Gareth and Galahad on their toes as well. He wondered again exactly what her relationship with Gawain was. When he brought it up to the knight, Gawain joked flippantly and tended to elude questioning.

Arthur sensed it went a little further then just lovers. He had been told that Gawain didn't so much as look after another woman now. Lancelot had said it was causing some jealousies among the women at the tavern. Arthur hoped Kirra, being who her relation was, would be safe from any personal attacks, but with women scorned one never knew.

And there was Tristan. When he had come to report on Kirra, he had said less then Gawain. Merely confirmed that Kirra was his younger sister but that he had no idea as to where Gawain had found her and why she should come now. Arthur could see the strain that her relationship with Gawain placed on his scout and it made him a bit anxious, though he was quite certain Tristan would never harm a fellow knight.

"Here it is," he said as they reached a run-down little hut near the practice yards.

Kirra stopped and examined it. It would need some work, but she already had several people who owed her favors for her work, so she would have a steady supply of labor and supplies.

"It's perfect," she breathed in excitement.

And it was. A low wall ran to the left of the little hut, hedging in what would be a large and wonderful herb garden. A small well sat in the center of the heavily weeded area, but it was in the perfect location. Kirra would not need to go far to get fresh water. She pushed open the rotting door and jumped back, almost into Arthur when it fell off its hinges with a muffled crash and puff of dust.

The inside was perfect as well and Kirra wondered if the little house had been used at one time for the same purpose she was to use it for. The floor was of smooth stones that fit together tightly and made a level surface. She could see a small dark hole at the far end of the room and she hoped it was a drain. That would make cleaning the floor so much easier.

The one room was a good size. Three cots could easily fit in against the far wall and there was a large open hearth. The shelves that had been built into the walls were still sturdy, in fact, but for the wild garden and rotting door, the little house was in great shape.

She turned and grinned at Arthur who was waiting just outside the door, "This is great!"

"I'm glad you think so. Whatever you need to get started will be provided."

"Thanks," Kirra couldn't wait to get started. She could already see what the little house would look like when clean and tidied up.

"I've something else for you," Arthur said watching her closely.

That surprised Kirra. What more could she possibly need? She waited for him to tell her.

"I've had a room cleaned out for you," he announced.

Kirra's face didn't change, but her eyes darkened. She was too quiet. She was reacting to the news in the way Arthur thought she would.

"Thank you," She said somewhat stiffly.

"Since it seems you are comfortable in the barracks and it will make more then one of my knights more than a little anxious if you were not within sight or hearing, you will still be staying there. But I thought that a young woman would need a little privacy and time away from men."

Now that she understood more of his reasoning, Kirra relaxed, "Thank you," she repeated a little more warmly. She was far from pleased, but would not put up too much of a fight. She would move her stuff into the room, but they both knew where she would be spending most of her free time.

"I'm a distraction aren't I," she said as they started back.

Arthur sighed; she was too much like her brother, "Yes, but to remove you from the men would be more so. Truth be told, I am not completely comfortable with the arrangement, but since you are staying and since you are the sister to one of my men and … something more to another, I will make concessions. You will earn your keep."

The girl met his eyes steadily, suddenly appearing older then her tender years, "I will prove to be invaluable to you." She promised.

Arthur was surprised at her confession. It was not said with any amount of pride, just matter of fact. She completely believed what she said and was so compelling about it that Arthur had a hard time not believing her himself. He hadn't time to respond, however, because as they turned the corner on the way into the stable, Gawain came striding towards them, worry written on his face.

"Kirra," he called, gentling his voice for her. "Where have you been?"

Kirra raised an eyebrow, "With Arthur. He found me a place to set up my stuff."

Gawain gripped her shoulders and Arthur became concerned by the emotion he saw in the knight's blue eyes.

"You have to tell me where you are at all times."

She smiled gently and smoothed a wrinkle in his tunic, "Jols knew where I was and then I was with Arthur. I hardly think he would let anything happen to me. You worry too much."

Gawain met Arthur's eyes. They were cool and mildly disapproving. It was an expression Arthur had never seen on him before. It was almost as if he didn't completely trust Arthur with the girl.

"I am sorry I worried you, Gawain," Arthur said in measured tones. Yes, there was definitely something more to this relationship then just the outward appearance of lovers.

Gawain had dropped his hands from Kirra's shoulders, but the tension had not left his body. Inadvertently, he had placed his body between Kirra's and Arthur's, almost shielding her from the Roman. It was interesting.

Arthur took a step back, "Kirra, your room is third on the right in the second corridor. Gawain." He turned on his heel and left for his own rooms. He had much to think about.

"Whoa," Kirra breathed. "Talk about so much testosterone, I could cut it with a knife."

Gawain looked at her in bewilderment. She still used words he had no understanding of.

"It was Arthur. You can't go all caveman with _Arthur_." She laughed slipping her hand into his.

"I was worried," Gawain replied unapologetically.

"Yes, but you trust him. You told me so yourself."

"It is different when it comes to you. And what did he mean _your room_?" Gawain looked down at her, his eyes icy.

Kirra frowned, "Apparently, I am a distraction and so he has had a room cleaned up for me. It's further from you then I like, but we both know where I'll be staying."

Gawain hugged her to him tightly as if he were going to lose her. She let herself melt against his hard body. He was the one who needed the comforting, not her, so she remained still, content to be where she was, until he turned her loose.

"Better now?" she asked with her mischievous grin.

"Only because we both know where you will be staying," He reiterated soberly.

Kirra reached up and pulled his face to hers, "Home is only where you are, Gawain." She said softly as she pressed a sweet kiss to his lips.

----------------

It took only three days of hard work to get the little house in order. The roof had to re-thatched, but other then that it had proved to be in fine condition and the men liked the idea of helping her as opposed to spending another day training. Dag even helped her plant her herb garden.

It seemed they finished not a moment too soon, because later that evening during dinner Arthur called the men for a meeting.

Gawain was unusually sober as he came back to his room. Kirra was bathing in a large tub she had found somewhere. She had a few tight muscles from the unaccustomed work she had done – digging the weeds out of her garden and turning the earth by hand had been killer on her back, and arms, and legs, and everything. She had stolen three chairs from the other men's rooms and had draped them with blankets and set them up around the tub to keep in the heat.

"What did Arthur want?" She asked when she heard the door open. There was such a long pause that she grabbed a square of cloth and heaved her sore body out of the hot water to see what was going on. She wrapped it around her and stood dripping on the floor as she waited for Gawain to answer her.

"We're going out," he said looking over at her, for once feeling nothing at the sight of her wet, scantily clad body. His worry overrode every other emotion. "There is word of an attack on a village west of here. We have to go and diffuse the situation."

"Oh, that's all?" Kirra turned back to her bath.

Gawain's eyes widened in amazement, "How can you say that? We will be gone for at least seven days, maybe more."

Kirra shrugged and settled back into the steaming water, "Well, as long as I can keep an eye on you, it's not a big thing."

"Kirra, you can't come."

There was a splash as she launched herself out of the water again and the floor was hit with a small wave, "What?" she cried in outrage as she stood wet and glaring, this time not bothering with a cover.

Gawain moved to put his hands on her shoulders, "You aren't allowed to come."

"Says who?" she hissed, livid that anyone would dare make that decision for her.

"Arthur."

Kirra's body went rigid, "How am I supposed to take care of you if I can't go where you go? What's the use of being the "knights' healer" if I have to stay here? Doesn't he realize that if anything happens to any of you, you would never make it back in time for me to be of any help?"

Gawain pulled a blanket from a chair back and wrapped the furious little woman in it, "He is only thinking of you."

Kirra stepped away, a look of betrayal painting her features, "Didn't you explain it to him?"

Gawain settled himself into the chair, "Yes, and it didn't matter. Tristan was against it as well."

Gawain remembered with a little shudder the look Tristan had given him when he had stood to argue with Arthur and explain why Kirra should be allowed to accompany them.

Kirra's jaw set, "Oh, he's going to hear about this one." She vowed as she turned and yanked her underclothes on – it was a little difficult as her skin was still wet.

"It won't matter. His mind is set. He'll tie you and leave you for someone to find if he has to. He said as much."

"That is ridiculous!" She exploded, trembling with rage. "I can't believe he would even _think_ he could tell me what to do."

Gawain got up and grabbed Kirra's shoulders again and looked into her eyes. His tone was firm, "He can, Kirra. And even if Tristan couldn't, Arthur's word concerning us is law. You have to learn that."

Kirra was taken back by his words. She had forgotten the fact that her people were owned; she turned her head to the side and looked at the floor. Tears of frustration and anger trickled down her cheeks, "It's not fair."

Gawain brushed her tears away with his fingers, "No it's not, but it is the way things are."

Kirra threw her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest, "I am still going to tell Tristan what I think."

Gawain chuckled and hugged her to him, "That should be interesting."

"He'll probably not even blink," she complained.

"Probably not, but then if it is you, he may feel slightly guilty."

Kirra rolled her eyes.

------------------

She was still angry when she woke the next morning, but held off leaving her warm cocoon to find her obstinate brother if she could spend a few more precious moments with Gawain. She dreaded his leaving as she had dreaded nothing before. She thought he felt the same. Whenever she had shifted during the night, he had tightened his hold on her until she had given up and lay still. He came awake at a quiet rap on the door and rolled away from her to sit on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands.

"Promise me you'll not do anything crazy while we're gone." He said looking over at her.

Kirra nodded. She had never seen the fierce expression in his eyes before and it frightened her.

"If you need anything, go to Vanora. If you have to, stay at her home."

Gawain pulled himself to his feet and proceeded to dress. He had laid his clothing and weapons out the previous night, so it didn't take long. Kirra followed suit and dressed in a long skirt and shirt. She wound her hair around her head and secured it with several pins.

"I'll be fine. You just be sure not to take more risks then you have to."

Gawain took her in his arms and held her tightly, "We have to go." He murmured into her hair.

Kirra followed him silently to the stable. The other men watched her closely, no doubt having heard their argument the night before and wondering if the same would follow here. She stood impassively silent, her eyes darkening dangerously only when she spotted Tristan but she stayed in her place and whispered to Drea in English as Gawain fixed his bag and weapons to her saddle.

She watched Arthur out of the corner of her eye when he came in, but still stayed silent. She said nothing when Gawain ran a fallen tendril of hair through his fingers and mounted Drea. They had said their good byes. She watched impassively as Gareth and Galahad rode slowly by with small sympathetic smiles on their faces. Lancelot patted her head as he rode by and earned a little scowl. Tristan was the last to leave. He didn't mount until the rest had left and even then he merely turned to Kirra.

"I would not have you come," he said.

She folded her arms across her chest and growled, "You are not my mother."

"She would not have you come."

Obstinacy flashed in two sets of similar eyes and neither spoke for a long moment. Kirra finally sighed, it was not in her nature to hold a grudge and really, who could out-glare Tristan?

"You had better go, I'll yell at you when you get back."

He reached out hesitantly and gave her a brief hug before turning and mounting Talon and whistling for Iolani. The beautiful bird came at once and settled on his fist for a moment before taking flight. Kirra watched her brother's retreating figure until he rounded the corner and then she moved to go back to her room to wait.

--------------------

It took ten days for the men to return and Kirra had hardly a moment to miss them. She worked from dawn until well past dark and then she fell senseless into bed and slept a few dreamless hours before waking up to start all over.

From the moment the men had left, her House had not been empty. It would seem that most of the villagers had only been waiting for the knights to leave before paying a visit to the new healer. They went away with all manner of teas and tinctures, but very few had any stories to tell. Kirra treated them kinder and was more gentle then the Roman physicians; she turned no one away – no matter how unable to pay for her services they were. She was surprisingly normal but strangely her remedies worked better then anything and everyone came away feeling better then they should.

Kirra had just sat down to a well deserved dinner in the tavern when one of the little bastards, Five, came running with news that the men had been spotted. It wasn't until she heard that they she realized just how empty her life had been for the last two weeks. She jumped to her feet, leaving her dinner uneaten, and raced to the stable arriving just as Arthur dismissed his men.

Gawain slid from Drea's back tired and travel worn, with quite a few more bruises then when he had left. He turned and had only a moment to react when Kirra slammed into him. She clung like a little cat, kissing any part of him she could get a hold of. He laughed and squeezed her back.

"Easy," he winced as she pinched a tender spot.

Kirra slid to her feet and stood examining him with sharp eyes. She brushed his hair out of his eyes and whistled at the shiner he had.

"That's lovely -- so many different colors," she cupped her small, cool hand over it and whispered a few words that calmed the ache and soothed the man. "How are the rest of you?"

Gawain smiled, "A couple of good gashes -- nothing Dag couldn't handle, an assortment of bruises, but over all we're fine."

Kirra raised and eyebrow and then turned to the rest of the men who were watching with amusement on their faces, "I had better see every last one of you at my House before night falls. I want to make sure of that myself." Their faces fell and she shrugged, "That's the way things are." She called over her shoulder as she left to build up the fire and prepare her herbs.

She entered Gawain's room several hours after dark, stretching her stiff back and yawning. She had expended more energy healing bruises and minor cuts in the hours since the knights had returned then she had the past ten days tending the villagers.

Gawain was deeply asleep and didn't so much as twitch when she slid next to him and lay her head on his shoulder. He was the only one who hadn't come to see her and now in the flickering glow of the fire that burned in the hearth, she could see how beat up he really was. She sighed, deciding that if was comfortable enough to sleep, then she would let him be and she soon fell asleep.

She jerked awake several hours later to find she was alone and sprawled in the middle of the bed. Sitting up, she spotted Gawain standing by the window, his body held stiffly and the muscle in his jaw tight.

"Gawain?"

He turned his head to look at her. The moonlight that fell from the open window gave his hair a silvery sheen. Kirra could see the dark circles under his eyes and the exhaustion he tried to hide.

"How come you're not sleeping?" Her voice was heavy with concern.

"Too sore," He said turning back to the window. Kirra slid from the bed and padded to him.

"You know," she said sliding her arms around his waist and resting her cheek against his warm broad back, "I _can_ help with that."

He covered her hands with his and leaned back into her, "I know, but I also know what it takes out of you."

She kissed his back, "That's stupid. It's like a muscle; the more it's worked the stronger it grows. So, I'll be tired, big deal – you'll be able to sleep." She came around to face him and took his hand, tugging insistently. "Come back to bed."

Gawain allowed her to pull him to the bed and push him to sit on the edge. She went to the small table and dug in her bag there. Pulling out a small lidded jar, she came back and climbed on the bed behind him. She opened the jar and rubbed a bit of its contents between her hands, than, moving his heavy hair to the side, she began to massage his back and shoulders.

Her hands were gentle but firm as they slid over tight muscle and tender bruise. After a few moments, Gawain found himself able to relax. Kirra hummed a soothing tune under her breath as she worked, pausing now and then to press a kiss to the back of his neck or a bruise that looked particularly nasty which caused him to shiver.

He was nearly limp and certainly feeling no pain when she pulled him down flat and leaned over him, her hair brushing his skin, to do the same to his torso, it didn't have quite the same relaxing effect and soon he stopped her ministrations all together with a rough, desperate kiss.

Kirra pulled back, giggling and pushed her dark bangs out of her eyes, "That is not at all helpful." She chided.

Gawain shrugged helplessly, "You started it."

She leaned over the side of the bed and put the little jar on the floor, than curled next to him, yawning, "Not with that in mind. Next time don't wait to come to me."

"I never wait to come to you," he said tucking her closer and drowsily stroking her arm with his fingers until they both fell asleep.


	24. Chapter 24

**#24 Women**

Spring and summer had flowed into a warm, golden autumn. It was a clear, relatively dry afternoon when Kirra found that she had some time on her hands. Everyone seemed to be in relatively good health which had to be on account of the upcoming harvest. It looked to be a good year, or that is what Kirra had been hearing as she moved about the village. The thought of a comfortable winter put everyone in a good mood and helped them to stay well. A few minor accidents had occurred, but that, she was learning, was nothing out of the ordinary in this era.

The men were back from their latest mission and were happy. The Woad activity was, for the time being, relatively quiet and there had been no word that that was about to change any time soon. Perhaps they needed time to prepare for the upcoming winter as well.

Kirra was ready to relax and spend an afternoon with Gawain and his brothers. It surprised her at how easily she had been accepted into the knight's circle and how lively a group they were -- for men who's lives were not their own. Before, Kirra would have thought that they would be angry with their lot in life, but it seemed that they accepted it, for the most part, and some -- like Tristan, actually enjoyed it.

She made her way to the dusty training arena only to find it empty. A thoughtful frown creased her brow, not one man was present. That was unusual; normally at least one would be out here, doing something, even if it was only a bit of riding. She decided to pass through the stables and found them, too, empty of all human kind and paused to greet her horses. Both Fate and Jin had adjusted well to their new home and though Kirra had been worried about how Jin would be treated, she had learned that almost everyone thought the mare was striking.

One man in particular, who bred horses and sold them in the surrounding areas, had even asked if she would be willing to let his stallion breed the mare and named an astronomical price he would pay for the offspring if it were spotted like it's dam, and an above normal price if it wasn't, reasoning that it would have a bit of it's dam in it and so would perhaps produce spotted young.

Kirra had told him that she would think about it, but more then likely, she would agree to the bargain, if for nothing more then the money. Then perhaps she would have enough to purchase a stud of her own and breed her own horses. That was years away, though, after Gawain had been released from service. For now, Kirra was too busy to even give more then a passing thought to the future.

Giving a last pat to each of the mares and promising she would come back soon, for a ride and with treats, Kirra reluctantly made her way to the tavern. Even though Vanora worked in it, and Kirra usually ate there, and the men congregated there whenever they had a moment to eat and drink, and gamble; Kirra hated the place, simply for the women there.

They looked at her as a usurper of the men's attentions, when in truth their business had suffered very little since Kirra's arrival. The only one who wasn't buying was Gawain, but her presence certainly hadn't stopped the others.

It bothered one woman in particular, Petra. She was tall and striking, with flawless skin, lovely straight hair the color of polished oak, and eyes the bright blue of the sky. Apparently, she had been Gawain's favorite before he had gone away and she was not about to relinquish her position -- not for anyone, especially the small, dark, quiet healer, no matter the relationship between Kirra and Gawain. Tension between the two women was growing and would soon come to a head.

Kirra drew a deep breath, said a silent prayer Petra would not be around and entered the noisy tavern. Even in the middle of the afternoon it was quite full. It amazed Kirra that with so much work to be done men could still just sit around and be lazy, drinking away what little money they had, or didn't have, or wasting it in gambling or on a whore. Her eyes hardened when she saw Petra advancing on Gawain.

She watched as he laughed at what the woman had to say but got up and skirted her before she had a chance to plop herself in his lap. Petra followed him closely, sashaying and doing all in her feminine repertoire to get him interested in her, and leaned over his shoulder when he joined Gareth and Galahad in a game of dice.

Kirra grinned when he glowered at the woman and moved her clinging hands from off his shoulder. Gareth and Galahad were grinning at Gawain's predicament, but doing nothing to help, other then egg Petra on. Kirra rolled her eyes and shook her head in exasperation and walked over to the group.

Gawain's face lit in relief at the sight of her, while Petra's darkened and twisted into a very unattractive mask of hatred. Gareth exchanged a look with Galahad, that clearly said the following confrontation was going to be good and the two sat back to enjoy the show.

"So, what are we playing today?" Kirra asked the men, ignoring Petra. She casually slipped an arm around Gawain's shoulders and leaned in to examine the dice game.

In truth, she had no interest whatsoever in learning the game, but she would be damned if she would let Petra harass Gawain any longer, seeing that he unwilling to do much more to the woman then push her away.

"Have a free moment, Kirra?" Gawain asked as he wound an arm around her waist and pulled her close for a kiss.

"Yes, so I thought I would come and see where everyone was. When no one was doing any training, I figured you would be here." She glanced at the men, shaking her head and tsking, "Wasting time and money again, are we?"

"That is the general idea," Gareth said with a grin. "Want to waste it with us?"

Petra wrinkled her nose in displeasure at his invitation and positioned herself so that she was on the opposite side of Gawain, "Gawain was just about to teach me the rules of the game, before you so callously interrupted." She purred.

Gawain looked up at her in denial, "I …"

"Hush, love," she placed a finger over Gawain's lips and Kirra stifled a grin when he moved the woman's hand and dropped it. Disregarding the rejection, Petra turned her attention back on Kirra, "With that being the case, I think that you, being the _great_ healer you are, must have something better to do then hang around and be a third wheel."

The gathered men were silent as Kirra snorted, "Third wheel? You apparently have no idea what's going on here, Petra. I have more right to be here then you; so maybe, _you_ should count your losses and go annoy someone else."

Petra's fine eyes hardened into ice, "_Annoy_?" she sneered. "Why you little, bitch."

"Petra." Gawain growled in warning as he stood next to Kirra. His eyes had narrowed dangerously.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kirra saw that the other knights had stopped what they were doing and were watching with a feigned casual attention. Tristan had drifted closer, as had Dagonet. Bors was talking quietly -- for once, with Vanora, who was watching with worried eyes and Kirra wondered what exactly Petra was capable of. Only Lancelot sat unmoved from his place at a table, but his eyes were alert and his shoulders tense.

She drew away from Gawain and stepped into a relatively open area of the room, to give herself room to move had she the need, Petra took a step towards her, thinking that she had finally run the little healer off.

Kirra folded her arms over her chest and regarded Petra for a long moment before speaking, "I am anything but that, but I will guess that was the reason you called me that. Because you _are _quite like a bitch in heat and will mate with anything that has male anatomy and a decent price." Petra's mouth hung open in shock, but Kirra pressed on before the woman could come to her senses and interrupt.

"You hope to stain my reputation, when yours is the only one around here that had been blackened and by your own wanton actions. It's really pathetic that you couldn't come up with anything better or more realistic then the name that is better reserved for you. What a small, narrow mind you have, Petra." Kirra stated calmly, all the while hiding her enjoyment at watching the woman's face turn red and her nostrils flare.

"Little Sarmatian whore!" Petra exclaimed in fury. "You are only brave enough to use such words when you have all your men at your back to rescue you. But we all know the truth, you allow them to pass you around, like … like a …"

"A bicycle?" Kirra offered helpfully.

"Yes." Petra hissed, not realizing that she had no notion as to what a bicycle was. "Even your own flesh."

A collective gasp echoed through the now quiet room at her accusation. Gareth and Galahad got to their feet at this and stood staring daggers at Petra while the others drew even closer.

Kirra's eyes darkened at once, "Petra, think hard on what is about to come out of your mouth. I do not need my countrymen or my brother to protect me from the likes of you."

"That is how your people breed, or did you not know?" Petra's fury caused her to push on unthinking of the consequences, "They are just like dogs, meant to be kept under the feet of bet --"

She was silenced when Kirra, unwilling to listen to anymore of her ranting, moved towards her and without a word punched her full in the face. The taller woman went down hard and stayed down, whimpering and holding her bleeding nose.

Kirra bent down and Petra recoiled in fear of another strike. "You can insult me, you can try to take what you know is mine, but you will never, and I repeat, _never_ insult my homeland, my people, and above all my brother. I may be small and quiet and a healer, but know this, I can take you out any time I so desire." She paused and looked around the room, then spoke with a small, malicious grin, "And I think you just lost a whole lot of business." She stood up shaking her left hand.

The room, which had been so silent moments before, slowly increased in noise once everyone had realized the action was over. The patrons returned to their diversions. No one moved to help Petra to her feet. She eventually gained control of herself and pulled herself to her upright. It was the last anyone saw of her. Many thought she had left town, which she should have because with insulting her regulars as she had, she had assured she would starve.

"Whoa," Galahad breathed and grinned at her. "Never thought you had it in you, Kirra."

Kirra winced in pain. She never thought hitting someone bare fisted would hurt as bad as it had. She felt like her hand was broken. Good thing she had been aware enough to use her left hand instead of her right. She managed a weak smile, "Well, I am Sarmatian after all. Ask Gawain about it sometime."

Gawain frowned at her as he gently took her hand and examined it, "Aye, but that does not mean that you should go about hitting everyone who insults you with no protection for you hands." He looked into her eyes, "You had better get Dagonet to look at it."

"Relax. I'm a healer, ow! Quit that." She yelped when Gawain straightened her fingers and snatched her hand back.

"Dagonet," Gawain called, looking for the big man.

Dagonet walked over and Kirra sighed.

"I need you to take Kirra and examine her hand. She will be lucky if it is not broken." Gawain said in a tone that brooked no argument. He slung an arm around her shoulders and smiled, "But I do have to say, I thoroughly enjoyed the look of utter shock and amazement on Petra's face as she fell down."

Dagonet nodded in agreement, "That one's had it coming for awhile now."

Kirra looked between the two hovering men and found Tristan staring at her. His eyes were dark and she could tell he was not at all pleased with what she had done. She was sure that there would be a lecture somewhere in her very near future.

Her hand turned out not to be broken, just a bit out of place. She almost passed out when Dag had to put several fingers back. The big man was as gentle as always, but still it hurt.

"I can do that myself, Dag." Kirra protested when he spread a salve over the bruised and swollen knuckles and began to wrap it.

"Aye lovely, you can, but you care for us much of the time; it is my turn to serve you for a change." He stated in his deep, calm voice.

"I think Tristan is upset with me." She said, relaxing and letting the big man finish.

"Aye."

She sighed, "Why?"

"Because you should have walked away," A hard voice called from the entrance of the healing House.

Kirra looked up to see Tristan stride in and Dag take his leave. Gawain, seeing the expression on Tristan's face, kissed Kirra's cheek and stood to leave. As much as he had enjoyed watching Kirra hit Petra, he secretly agreed with Tristan and knew Kirra would listen closer to her brother and do what he asked. And she would not be mad at Gawain for the unwanted advice Tristan gave her.

"Coward," She hissed. He grinned, shrugging, and walked out the door leaving her to her fate.

Kirra slumped against the wall and glowered at her brother, "How do you manage that? Even Gawain won't stay."

Tristan didn't answer and continued to stare at Kirra for a moment or two.

"You can knock that off, it won't work on me," she snapped heatedly. "I am not afraid of you."

His harsh expression didn't fade, "I do not want you to be afraid of me, but you cannot do that again. It is too dangerous."

"Punching a whore who thoroughly insulted me and everyone I love, is dangerous?" Kirra asked with sarcastic incredulity.

Tristan searched her eyes, so like his own, down to the hard look in them. "No, calling such unwanted attention to yourself is dangerous. You never know who might be connected to whom here."

"So this has nothing to do with knocking Petra down, it is merely the fact of the matter."

Tristan's eyes narrowed at the belligerence in Kirra's voice, "You could say that."

"Fine," she snapped, "I get the point. I don't need you, of all people, to lecture me on the subject further." Kirra was getting angrier, without knowing why. Tristan was only looking out for her.

He took her wounded hand gently in his, "I want you to be safe, Kirra."

She brushed the angry tears from her eyes, "I know."

"Then why do you fight me?"

"I don't know. I never had anyone but my parents to tell me what to do. Now I have you -- you follow me all the time and make sure I behave. And there is always someone watching me. Even Gawain acts like some caveman, even to Arthur. It's stifling."

Tristan smiled a small smile and kissed her bruised knuckles. He could be quite charming when he put forth the effort and Kirra was hard-pressed to remain angry when he was like that and Tristan knew it.

"We just want you to be safe. Gawain informed me of the place you came from." Kirra scowled, upset to know that they had been discussing her. "It is much different here, more dangerous and it is less difficult for us to do what we are supposed to if we know you will behave yourself when you _are_ out of our sight. So, do not cry. We don't do it to hurt you."

"I know. I am trying."

Tristan nodded and sat beside her on the cot, "As are we. You are not the only one who has been thrust into a difficult situation."

Kirra looked over, her grey eyes troubled at his words, "I'm sorry."

But Tristan was patient. Kirra was far more innocent then he first thought, "There is no need to be sorry. You were sent to help us and we value you more than you know. Be patient and let us look after you as well we can."

"All right," she sighed and rested her head against his shoulder, taking comfort in him. "Thanks, Tris."

Tristan smiled in contentment and wrapped his arm around his sister. It was surprisingly pleasant to have someone who needed him in a way other then killing.


	25. Chapter 25

**This is not exactly my favorite chapter, but it is needed as a bridge, so here it is. I'll get the connecting chapter up soon. **

**Enjoy and please review!!!**

**# 25 Return**

Stumbling slightly with fatigue, Kirra adjusted the shawl that had slipped from her shoulders as she made her way through the village to her quarters. It was cold out and she had had a long night and equally long day. She was all ready to have a bath and wash off some of the stink that permeated her clothes and hair. She looked down at her dress; it would never be the same again. It was smeared with blood and other birthing fluids. Childbirth may be a beautiful thing, but it sure was messy -- and smelly. She grimaced, it would probably be better to just burn the dress and get another made.

She sighed and rubbed at her cold face, life here was so wearying. The grind never ended; it was no wonder that people died young. It would take a good two weeks to get another dress. She didn't have a lot of money, either. This was definitely not what she needed at this moment. What she wouldn't give for a credit card and a store full of pre-made dresses. She knew it was a totally unhelpful thought, but _damn it_!

As she neared the square, she noticed a crowd forming. Her previously foul mood lightened somewhat, a crowd here meant that people were coming from the road. It could be that Gawain and the others were finally home. One of Vanora's brood ran up to Kirra, fairly quivering in excitement and Kirra knew she was right. The child grabbed Kirra's hand and dragged her to where the older woman stood with the rest of the children.

Vanora looked Kirra up and down, "Well, that will sure be some greetin' Gawain gets," and grinned at Kirra's look of consternation.

"They are here already?"

"Aye, and just waitin' to be dismissed." Vanora shifted her weight and freed a lock of fiery hair from Ten's pudgy hand.

"You okay, Van?" She moved to look into Vanora's eyes.

"Just tired, is all."

Kirra smiled and touched her friend's arm, feeling a dizzying wave of exhaustion pass through her already weary body as she did so. Shaking her head to clear it, she asked, "Does that help any?"

Van nodded gratefully as she felt a surge of energy.

"I'll send something over to help you sleep."

Vanora patted Kirra's hand, "I could have really used that when I was pregnant with the twins. I don't think I slept at all."

"Which set?" Kirra asked with a mischievous smile and side-stepped the older woman when she reached out to cuff her.

Kirra giggled, "Sorry. I am sure you could have, but I guess you were just not a good enough girl back then. Or perhaps it was Bors' fault. You know of anything he could have done to prevent me from coming earlier?"

The woman rolled her eyes, "Kirra lass, you don't have enough time today to hear all the things that man's put me through."

"Well, just be sure that he knows it is his fault then."

"Aye, that I will. So, how was the birthin'?" Van asked.

Kirra wearily pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, "It was long -- almost too long. I'm amazed that they waited that long to come and get me. It was just torture on Octavia and they were lucky the baby came through unscathed."

Vanora shook her head in disapproval, "Well, you know as well as I that the Romans are resistant to anything that the likes of us have to offer, especially when we are calling on the goddess for help. You need to be careful in your dealin's with them." The older woman cautioned with a frown. "I am surprised that Gawain and Tristan even let you work with them."

"They are too busy to worry much about that, Van and I don't tell them, either." Kirra retorted sharply.

Vanora didn't respond, only gazed mildly back at the young woman. She knew what was bothering Kirra. Comments like she had made, tended to make the girl cranky. It chafed at her, that men made decisions concerning her. It didn't help that she had been denied accompanying the men again -- something Vanora couldn't understand, why such a lovely, innocent, little wisp of a girl should desire to be exposed to what the knights were forced to do.

Vanora shook her head wryly when Kirra looked away, no she didn't understand at all, but she did feel sympathy for the girl who had been raised to think so differently from her. It didn't help that her brother and lover had been gone such a long time this time, either.

Kirra looked down at her dress again; she knew she was a mess. It was really not the way that she would have chosen to meet Gawain after so long apart and it had been too long since she had seen him. Felt his arms around her, heard his voice whispering in her ear as he made love to her. It was beginning to take its toll on her. The smallest things were able to set her off.

She missed him fiercely when he was gone and it never seemed to get any easier. When he was gone, she seemed a bit off, as if her balance was gone or – and this was closer to the truth – her sun was disappeared.

"Do I really look that bad, Van?"

"Aye Kirra, you do, lass, and you smell too."

Well, the woman was honest; Kirra had to give her that.

"Have any suggestions?"

Van pursed her lips and thought; she was interrupted when the children let out a collective yell and darted off. It seemed the men had been dismissed and they had caught sight of their father.

Kirra waved her friend off, "Don't worry about it. I'll just have to stink and he'll just have to like it." She grinned as Bors caught sight of his lover and proceeded to grope her thoroughly while kissing her obscenely. Ten was in serious danger of being squished.

"Take it home will you or at least let the baby down so there's no permanent mental trauma. There are so few good psychiatrists here."

Bors turned and grinned at her, "Jealous are we?"

"Oh Bors, you know I am always jealous when it comes to you and other women." Kirra replied deprecatingly, before moving away. She paused and looked back when she heard Bors yell after her. He was laughing.

"You'll be getting yours soon enough, girl."

Kirra chuckled and looked down at herself again. _Not likely_.

Pausing for a moment on the threshold of the stable, she let her eyes get used to the dim interior. Lancelot passed her carrying his pack and eyed her, Kirra held up her hand, "Not one word, or the next time you come in, I'll let it rot."

He gave her his most winning smile, "I wouldn't dream of saying anything, beautiful lady." He gave a mocking bow and strode away, no doubt congratulating himself on getting the best of her – this time.

Kirra rolled her eyes. S_ome day_, she vowed, _I will make that man so pay_. She looked around for Finn. Maybe she would sneak the huge dog into Lancelot's room and let Finn terrorize him a bit. Bring the arrogant bastard down to size. It would be even better if he was bringing a woman friend back with him. Kirra smiled at the thought.

Dagonet saw her dreamy grin and took it to mean something else, "I think he is still in Drea's stall."

Kirra blinked in confusion, "Who?"

"Gawain," Dag stopped, taking in her haggard appearance. "You feelin' all right, sweetheart?"

"Yeah, it was a long night. Thanks for asking."

Dag waited quietly for her to explain.

"Long, tricky birth, oh, but no worries. Everyone came out fine." She added hastily when she saw his brow crease in concern. She touched the big man's arm, "Glad you're home, Dag, but I am sure that you have more important things to worry about than me. Or at least you should."

Dag chuckled good naturedly at the not so subtle brush-off and watched the girl make her way across the stable to Drea's stall, where she knew Gawain would be. He turned and left when he saw her jump at his brother and stand motionless for several long moments tightly wrapped in the fair knight's arms.

-----------------------------

Gawain was checking his weapons and didn't see Kirra, so was surprised when something small, and smelling of something men just didn't want to know about, flung itself into his arms.

He wrapped his arms around her as she laid her head against his chest and shivered at the feeling of homecoming. He kissed the top of her head when she sighed against him, then opened his mouth and promptly ruined the moment, "Well, that's an interesting scent."

The moment he said it he knew, in the way that all men know when they have said something to their woman that was better left unsaid, that he should have kept his mouth shut. He gave himself a mental kick to the head and prepared himself for the impending onslaught. It didn't really come like he thought it would, which was worse.

Kirra stiffened and pulled away, her eyes hardening into ice as she folded her arms over her chest and retorted scathingly, "And you're spring roses." Then she turned on her heel and stalked away in the direction of the barracks.

Gawain gave a great sigh and rubbed his jaw. There was no way that she was going to even talk to him tonight, much less make love to him and he had missed her more during this mission then he ever had any other. Not that he didn't always miss her, but this time had just been with more longing.

The last few miles of the ride home had been the most difficult. He had been so close yet still so far from her and now, when he had her safe and in his arms; he'd gone and destroyed what would have been a wonderful welcome home. He watched her tell off Galahad for a moment before collecting his scattered possessions and followed her.

---------------------------------

Kirra passed Galahad on the way out; Finn had already found him and was wiggling joyfully at his return. It was amazing how the dog had taken to him. Galahad called to her.

"Kirra, I need you to take a look --"

Kirra didn't even pause as she passed, "Galahad, are you bleeding from the eyes, ears, nose, or mouth?"

"No, but I -- "

She continued, "Are you dying?"

"No, but -- "

"Are you able to walk?"

"Yes."

"Then I suggest that you give me five minutes and meet me at the House." Like he knew what five minutes was. Kirra balled her hands into fists and continued her march to her quarters.

She was in such a fury that she didn't see Tristan as she passed him. One look at her face was enough to stop him from approaching her and he wondered briefly if that was the way he looked on the battlefield, if so, no wonder people feared him.

Kirra's face was completely blank except for her eyes, which had darkened to almost black. Nothing could be read in them, but her posture and clenched fists told the story of her anger.

He wondered what had been said to produce such a rage and turned around to see Gawain watching his sister's retreat with a bemused expression on his face. Tristan watched silently as Gareth slapped his brother on the back and laughed at him. Hmmm. He made a mental note to go and talk to Kirra before the evening was over. That is, if he could get her to talk to him.


	26. Chapter 26

**The next couple of chapters are a little different. Read and tell me what you think!**

**#26 Stories**

Once in her room, Kirra slammed the door -- hard. It made a resounding sound that echoed through the halls. She knew it was terribly childish, but there was just something rewarding about a slamming door that always made her feel better.

She ripped off her dress and heaved it into the corner with the other dirty ones. On top of the normal, everyday accidents that she was forever tending, something like the flu was going around. All her dresses and skirts had some sort of vile human fluid on it somewhere and she had been too busy to even give more then a glance to her dirty things. They all needed to be washed and badly. She crossed to her chest and took out her last clean work dress.

It was her oldest one. She had worn it so much that the color had faded and the hem was growing threadbare, but it would have to work. It was this one, her wedding gown -- like that was going to happen, or the elegant dark blue gown that was strictly for celebrations and Kirra would rather go naked then risk the chance of getting blood, or herbs, or anything on it.

Kirra sat down on her bed and gave in to self-pity. The last thing she wanted to do was go and make sure the men were all right. She didn't want to have to listen to them and make them happy. At the moment, she didn't care if they all fell off of the face of the earth, them and all things male or related to men. All she wanted to do was have a nice long hot bath, a good meal and go to sleep. At this point, Gawain joining her was not an option. It was times like these that made her glad that Arthur had made her have her own room.

As she heaved herself off her bed, she noticed that the blood and other fluids had soaked through to her underclothes and stained her stomach. _Great, that is just great._ She yanked them off and rummaged through her clothes chest once again. Silently thanking Niara for making so many extras, she tossed clean underclothes on the bed with her old dress and went to her wash basin.

Not really caring about the mess, Kirra splashed water onto her face, arms and stomach. She grabbed a pinch of a harsh soap that was really supposed to be used only on clothing and scrubbed up. Goosebumps broke out all over her body and she was shivering before she was done. She used a rough scrap of cloth to dry off with and pulled on her clean clothing.

Unhappily, she noted that the dress rather hung on her frame. She had been loosing weight again. It was hard to remember to eat, when she was constantly being bombarded this by people who needed her help, though she certainly felt the fatigue afterwards.

Pulling her hair out of its messy braids, Kirra brushed it out and rubbed a bit of jasmine oil in. It was a small luxury, but well worth the money. The subtle scent just covered the birthing smell. Without someone to regularly tend it, Kirra's already long hair had grown longer and she wondered if, at times, she appeared more hair then woman to people.

She almost laughed when she thought what people must think of her and Gawain; him with his long, unruly blonde hair and her with her wild, dark hair. Between the two of them, they had enough hair that no one should ever need to go bald again.

Then she remembered she was supposed to be mad at him – was mad at him and she sighed as she began the laborious task of re-braiding, finally giving up after three braids and just twisted strands into place before securing them with small bronze clips. It would do for now and keep the hair out of her eyes.

By the time Kirra had finished dressing and was ready to get to the healing House her anger had diminished, all she felt at the moment was a bone-deep exhaustion. She sighed and closed the door to her room -- quietly.

---------------------------

She was pleasantly surprised that no one, including Galahad, was waiting for her when she got to her little House. She took a key that hung from a leather thong at her belt and unlocked the door. Unlike her dusty, neglected room, the House was always spotless and organized.

Her garden was coming in wonderfully. It had thrived in the damp weather and Kirra was proud of her work. If fact, most of the people would come to her when they needed household supplies. It was a thought that reminded her of Niara.

With the men's help, she had moved in cots, a small table and chair, and whitewashed the inside. Shelves full of tinctures, oils, ointments, and other healing necessities lined the wall above the table. Bunches of dried herbs hung all along the ceiling and they gave off a good clean smell. It was a bright cheerful place to be -- even if one was hurt.

She gave a bone-cracking yawn and smiled sleepily, this was her domain, the one place that she could come to relax and be in control. No one ever told her what to do in _this_ room, here _her_ word was law and she loved the power.

She turned to the banked fire, here again unlike her room, there was always a fire going. She stirred the fire to life and fed it a few sticks then hung two pots of water to boil. One would be for washing, the other for tea, no one escaped here without drinking a tea of some sort.

Kirra chuckled; the men thought that she didn't know that they still went to Dag for more minor wounds for the sole reason that if she got them in her House, she would make them drink something before they left. Usually, the something that they had to drink was bitter and not in the least bit satisfying.

Kirra did it for two reasons, the first being that the teas she gave them were good for them. She always asked the goddess' blessing on them and so they were well worth the few moments of discomfort while drinking.

The second reason was that with the threat of having to drink a nasty tea, it ensured that Kirra only saw to the major injuries and so had more time to herself. Had Kirra desired it, she could have made most of her teas very palatable -- like the one that she would be sending to Vanora.

Just as she was placing a few mugs and herb mixtures out, Galahad knocked on the door and entered. He waited until Finn was in and had flopped on the floor in front of the fire before closing the door tightly behind him. That was one of Kirra's seemingly useless rules, but one she made everyone abide by.

Her rules were as follows:

You do what I say,

Only one person in at a time -- unless there is an emergency,

The door is always closed behind you -- if the door is closed assume that someone else is in and come back later

Kirra locked it only on account of Bors' brood. They had come to adore the young woman and were forever plaguing her to play games with them. Kirra enjoyed their lively company, but all were highly inquisitive and there were things in the House that could hurt or kill little ones.

"You look better, Kirra," Galahad began, but stopped when she turned to face him with her hands on her hips. Her gray eyes flashing.

"Really?"

She wasn't nearly so fearsome as she stifled another yawn, but she made up for it after, when she narrowed her eyes. "I don't want to discuss that just now. What's up? Are you really hurt or did you just come for a story?"

For some odd reason, the men loved her stories. Kirra, in order to take their minds off of whatever she was doing to them, had started telling the men all the stories she knew. For some she told fairy tales, for others -- like Dag, she recited poetry, and for others she sang silly little songs, movies worked as inspiration as well. The men all had their favorites.

At first Kirra had been amazed that these hardened warriors could find so much satisfaction from her silly little stories. She assumed that it had something to do with the innocence of the stories, or it could be that they found her quite amusing when she changed her voice to give the characters life. The practice, although fun, did have one major drawback: the men would often come – with no visible injuries -- and force down whatever vile concoction she made for them, just for another story.

Galahad grinned, "Oh, I'm hurt." When Kirra saw the irresistible little boy he must have been, she immediately brightened. "Almost bled to death earlier."

"You look it," she said wryly, when in fact, he didn't look like there was a thing wrong, not a drop of blood anywhere. It was obvious he had changed before tracking her down.

"Now where is this _life-threatening_ injury?"

He turned around and pulled down the neck of his tunic to reveal a bandage. Kirra moved the bandage aside and saw part of a nicely curving gash. It seemed to continue on down his shoulder blade for some length.

"Oh, that is fearsome and quite lovely to – should leave a great scar to impress the ladies with. Hope there's a good story behind it."

Gal laughed, "Not really, just wasn't paying enough attention."

"Well, then you'll have to make up something good. Something heroic and daring. I am sure between you and Gareth; you can come up with something."

Galahad was indignant, "And let him tell it first?"

Kirra giggled, "Good point. Got a hair for me?"

Galahad held out a couple of long dark hairs and Kirra took them and threaded her needles before dropping them in her pot of boiling water.

"Okay, enough with the formalities," she said, getting down to business. "Take it off and sit down."

"Kirra …" Galahad protested.

"Oh, come on. I refuse to treat that with you wearing your shirt. It would be impossible, so get on with it. What story do you want today?"

While turning to dip some water out into a small bowl and pour some into a waiting mug, Kirra peeked over at Galahad; he had removed his shirt and was sitting on the cot with it wadded in his hands. Taking his shirt off for her always made him nervous.

Kirra giggled to herself. If it had been Gareth there instead of Galahad, he would have stripped his tunic off, given her his most charming dimpled grin and told her that she had chosen the wrong brother and that after she had finished stitching him up, she should allow him to escort her to his room to prove it.

Gal never played such games with her. Maybe it was because she was Gawain's wife or maybe it was because she was Tristan's sister, Kirra wasn't sure. The truth was, the thought of Tristan was never far from the young man's mind and it worried him. Gawain, he could handle -- but one didn't mess with Tristan.

"I have a new one for you today," Kirra began when he shrugged and told her to surprise him. She came towards him with her old bowl and a rag, "It is about a little red hen."

Galahad settled down as she began her story, her low voice had soothing quality to it and when she started talking while she was cleaning you up, she put you in a trance.

Kirra felt Galahad relax under her hands and smiled. There were definite perks to this job. It wasn't every day that a girl got to run her hands over a good looking, extremely well put-together man. She knew she should feel some guilt for the thought, but she never did. She loved Gawain and everyone knew it, so why couldn't she enjoy herself?

She finished cleaning Gal up, ignoring the small hiss of pain that escaped him when she touched his back with the wash water soaked rag. It was the worst part for everyone, but she had gotten used to the reaction towards it.

She pinched his arm at the same moment she pricked him with her needle to begin the stitching process. She had learned that the little trick worked to take the mind off of the needle. She chuckled; big men still feared a little needle. Because of all the injuries she saw, Kirra had become rather adept at stitches, she was quick and hers were always strait and small and rarely left large, tight scars.

She was done in record time, slathering on a little of her garlic paste before she started to wrap the Galahad's shoulder. She finished her story at the same time she tied the last knot and tucked the edges under so they wouldn't catch on anything and cause discomfort.

"Almost done."

Kirra crossed to stand in front of Galahad, took his hand in both of hers and whispered a few words. She felt a little of the anger that seemed to always be in him flow through her and smiled at her friend. He returned it with one of relief. It was little enough to ease his that emotion for awhile.

"Okay, drink your tea,"

Galahad groaned and Kirra made a face at him, "Yes, and get out of here. Oh, remember easy on the ale tonight. It isn't pretty when mixed with the herbs and I don't feel like staying up all night watching you to make sure that you don't die. Plus, it's not attractive to a woman when the man she is with throws up on her -- trust me on that."

Galahad rolled his eyes, but Kirra, having dismissed him and already turned away and had started to clear away the bits of bloody cloth and needles, preparing for her next victim.

Galahad slipped his tunic over his head, wincing at the pulling of his stitches and touched Kirra's hand, interrupting her cleaning.

"Don't be too hard on Gawain, he's stupid sometimes."

Kirra sighed; it would seem word had already gotten out of Gawain's tactlessness and Kirra's slight overreaction to it. There were few secrets among the knights.

"All men are stupid" --She replied without so much as looking up -- "most of the time."

"I know, but he didn't mean to hurt you. He missed you. Really, you have to know how bad it was for us, we had to listen to him whine for days on end. It almost made Gareth sick."

Kirra turned; Galahad was standing close to her, appealing to her with his eyes.

"I know and I won't. I just had a rough last couple of days. I missed him too. Now get out of here." She gave him a small, ineffective shove, "I know you have other people to annoy. Oh, and take that fool dog with you, he knows I don't like his big, dirty body in here."

"Thanks Kirra, for the story." Galahad ducked his head and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before he left, calling to Finn.

She smiled and turned to her table, pulling out a sheet of parchment with Galahad's name at the top and her ink and quill. Early on, she had found it a good idea to keep track of the things she used on each of the men and when, so that if there was a problem, she could remember it and not make the same mistake again.

The men teased her about her ability to read and write, saying that they were skills that no good woman needed to know, but secretly Kirra knew that they were proud of her and as they couldn't read or write, they came to her for assistance.

She was so engrossed in her task that when she heard another knock on her door, she didn't turn, but only mumbled a quick, "Come in." She was quite shocked when she turned and saw who her new patient was to be.

It was Arthur.


	27. Chapter 27

**#27 Roman**

Arthur never came to her, Kirra didn't know why. Maybe it had something to do with him being a Roman and a Christian, she couldn't figure it out. He made sure that she had all the supplies and herbs that she needed. But Kirra didn't even think he had ever set foot in her House after it had been renovated.

"Arthur, what are you doing here?" She asked, without stopping to think about what she was saying.

He looked surprised, "Am I not allowed to come and see the healer?"

Kirra eyed Arthur suspiciously, as if she didn't fully trust his answer, "No." – she shook her head and began again -- "I mean, yes, you are always welcome, but you never have before. I'm curious. Something wrong with the man who normally cares for you?"

Arthur knew that Kirra had little patience with the physicians in the fort; she thought that they charged too much and did too little, and his personal physician was one of them. "No, he is fine, but has been unable to do much about a scratch I received while riding."

"A _scratch_? You trust this man with your life and he can't heal a _scratch_?" Kirra didn't believe him. Of all people, she never would have thought Arthur would be one to put up with incompetence.

"He has never failed me yet," Arthur replied simply.

"Well, come in and sit down. I have to finish this up," she motioned to the parchment in front of her, "and then I'll take a look at your _scratch_." Kirra turned back to her writing and seemed to forget him.

Arthur entered, leaving the door open, and sat on the edge of a cot. He eyed the clean white walls and swept floor, the bundles of dried herbs, and the neatly organized jars and pots. This was definitely the place where a woman worked, but he was impressed by how bright and clean it was. It smelled good too. He watched Kirra for a moment at her scratchings.

Even after the time she had been here, Kirra was still quite a mystery to him and Arthur knew of no other women like her. How and where she learned to write was a question to which she gave short evasive answers. Actually, she only ever gave short evasive answers to anything Arthur had ever asked her -- her talents were a mystery that still puzzled him.

"What is it that you write?" he asked.

Kirra turned and looked at him blankly for a moment, still lost in her work, "Oh, it's a record of what I have done with Galahad. All of the men have one and now you will too. It helps me to remember what I have done, what worked, and sometimes -- as when Lancelot got that rash, what doesn't."

She grinned, evidently pleased with herself. That had been a highly successful failure in her eyes. Lancelot was still wary when he came to her.

Arthur chuckled, the rash _had_ been funny, well, the _placement_ of the rash had been funny. Knowing of the somewhat antagonistic relationship between Lancelot and the healer, he wondered if it really had been accident. "May I see?"

"Sure, but," -- she handed him the page -- "you won't be able to understand it. It is easier for me to write in this language then in Latin. Though I can."

He studied the parchment, most the letters were familiar, but the words were foreign to him. He handed it back to Kirra. "I should use you to write my messages."

"You could, but no one understands it and I am far too busy to teach anyone."

"Busy?"

She got up and looked at him in exasperation, "What do you think I do all day? Sit around and eat bonbons?"

Arthur had no idea what a bonbon was, "I know only what the men tell me."

"So, _they_ think that I just sit around all day?" Her voice was hard and it was obvious that each and every one of the men were going to pay for that remark.

Arthur saw the look in her eye and realized, too late, his mistake. He tried to placate her, "No, I am not sure they know what it is you do with your days."

"Well," Kirra's grey eyes flashed in feigned anger, "you may tell your _men_, the next time they ask, that I am more busy then they will ever be and if they want to keep in my good graces, which would be a _very_ good idea, then they had better keep their _opinions_ to themselves."

Arthur chuckled, causing Kirra to smile too. She was so lively it was hard not to feel comfortable around her. She turned from him to put the parchment away and then walked across the room to close the door.

"You left it open," She stated, mildly rebuking the Roman commander. "Didn't the men tell you how things work in here?"

Arthur shrugged, "No, they rarely tell me much about what goes on in here – except that you sit around all day and eat bonbons. Does it matter if the door is open?"

Not even Lancelot would give Arthur a straight answer of what exactly happened in Kirra's healing House. It seemed a secret that the men were unwilling to share, this was part of the reason that Arthur had decided to come and visit Kirra.

"Have you ever seen the door open when one of the guys are in here?"

_Guys? _

Arthur thought, come to think of it, he hadn't ever seen the door open. He had seen his men go in and out, but while they were in there, it was closed.

"Why must the door be closed?" He asked with a smile, playing Kirra's game. This was, after all her place.

"Well," Kirra's voice got soft and secretive; Arthur leaned closer to her in anticipation. "It's for privacy." She finished in her normal tone and laughed at Arthur's exasperated look.

"Okay, okay, a small part of it is privacy, but the real reason is that I want the men to feel safe here."

"Safe?" Arthur was intrigued.

"Yes," Kirra poured hot water into a clay mug before explaining, "I want them to feel safe here. Being hurt is no fun, even men as battle-hard as they are still afraid of needles."

That was interesting, "Who?"

Kirra looked at Arthur with wide, shocked eyes, "Why Arthur Castus, I never pegged _you_ for a gossip." Her expression changed and she raised a single dark eyebrow, "Do you really think I am going to tell you that?"

Arthur smiled again and shook his head. Kirra's words were strangely comforting to him. It was apparent that she truly loved and respected the knights for who they were as men, not warriors or hardened killers, but men, with fears and dreams and a future when this nightmare was through. He listened to her closely as she explained further.

"I want the men to feel that here with me they only have to be as strong as they _wish_ to be. That if one dislikes needles; he can look away, and not be teased unmercifully about it by the others or if one would like to make a noise while I am stitching him up, he can.

"Men are very different creatures around women than they are in the presence of their brothers."

Kirra paused and scrubbed at her hands and arms with harsh soap. Arthur noticed, uneasily, that a marking, he hadn't seen before, on the inside of her wrist shimmered as if it were alive. She continued.

"Here I want them to be the men that they would have been. I think you and I glimpse and see different things in the men. The warriors you see, I only glimpse, and for the most part, I see the men you only glimpse."

Kirra had become quiet, Arthur watched her as she concentrated rather hard on a plain bowl of water. She swirled it a bit and then set it on the table. He suddenly remembered seeing her do it when she had healed Bors' baby and only now did he wonder why.

"Okay," She was abrupt as if she were embarrassed to have said so much, "Show me this little _scratch_?"

He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt and began to remove some old bandages. Kirra moved to take over. She wrinkled her nose at the smell of it. Arthur winced as the bandage pulled at the gash on his upper arm; it stuck forcing Kirra to soak it. When at last the bandage came off, Kirra shook her head in disgust.

"_This_ is not a scratch."

Arthur's upper arm was swollen and hot to the touch. The flesh surrounding the gash was red, and raw, and inflamed. The wound itself was crusted over, but full of pus that would have to come out in order for the wound to be cleaned properly.

Kirra frowned, Arthur was lucky that it hadn't turned gangrenous. She touched his head and neck briefly, checking for fever. There was none -- a good sign. She turned and chose her herbs and set them to steep in the bowl that Arthur had seen her concentrating on. Then she pulled her chair to face him and sat down.

"What caused this?"

"It was just a scratch. I received it riding in the forest. A branch brushed against my arm." He shrugged.

Kirra wrinkled her nose in disgust. Yet another reason to not like being in this time, one little scrape and you could die.

"You are lucky. Had you waited a little longer and I may have had to cut off your arm." Her tone was light and teasing, but Arthur heard an underlying note of truth in it.

Arthur held very still as she explained.

"It is extremely infected and, well -- can't you smell it?"

He gave a curt nod.

"What did your last healer do to help?"

"He washed it and wrapped it."

"Humph. Well, it appears that there is more to this _scratch_ then he saw. I have to lance it to get all the poison out and I want to make sure that there are no little slivers of wood in it."

Kirra's procedure didn't sound all that comfortable, but Arthur, being Arthur, squared his shoulders and said, "Then you must begin."

Kirra removed little silver knife from a sheath at her belt and slipped it into the pot of boiling water hanging over the fire. She then picked up a small packet and removed a tiny silver needle. "You didn't by chance have the foresight to bring a couple of hairs from your horse's tail, did you?"

Arthur thought that this request was strange, "No, why?"

We-ell," Kirra began, uncertain whether she should have mentioned it. "I like to use that instead of thread. I do with all the guys. By using the hair from their horse, the horse lends his strength to his rider. It also strengthens their bond with their horse. It may seem strange, if you would prefer, I will use regular thread for you."

"That may be best." Arthur was leery of Kirra's pagan customs.

"Very well," She looked at him as if reading his thoughts, "You know, my adoptive parents raised me as a Christian."

Arthur looked up at her, surprise widening his hazel eyes.

Kirra nodded and continued, "But the woman who taught me how to heal was, well, I'll say pagan, for lack of a better description. So, when I heal I call on the goddess as she did. I believe that it is she who gives me the power to do what I do."

Again Arthur was intrigued.

"I have found that I don't necessarily believe that there is one God, but I do not discount that there isn't, either. So, I'm really not a full pagan, but I am also not a full Christian. I know there is someone or something out there controlling our lives, but I don't pretend to know who or what it is." She paused, thoughtful, "If you are uncomfortable with that then it would be best for you if you went to someone else. It is the only way I know of to heal."

Kirra watched as he contemplated her words. It would be a struggle for him to accept how she did what she did.

"I have seen your work and my men trust you, so I will trust you."

_Famous last words_, thought Kirra dryly remembering that Gawain had told her that same thing about Niara right before Niara had blown their worlds apart.

"If you were one of the men, I would tell you at this point to take of your shirt, but you can leave it on, Arthur."

"Another of your rules?"

Kirra nodded.

"Why?"

She grinned devilishly, "Why not?"

Arthur laughed, "That is fine with Gawain?"

Kirra's grin faded and she became wary as she usually did when Arthur asked her questions about her relationship with his knight, "Why do you ask?"

"Because I can't figure it out," Arthur saw her shoulders tense. "Why won't you or he give me a straight answer, Kirra? After all the time you have been with us, why must it be a secret?"

Kirra stared at the Roman for a long moment then sighed, "Do you remember how you felt just now when I spoke of my religious convictions? About the goddess and God?"

Arthur nodded.

"Well, it's all a part of the same story. If you cannot accept that, you will not be able to accept what happened between Gawain and I and it is something, so meaningful to me, so deeply personal, that I am not sure I would like it if I saw disapproval or disbelief in your eyes."

Kirra fished her little knife from the pot of water and placed it on a clean rag to cool, "It's not a respect issue, either. Gawain respects you as he does his brothers – which is saying a lot and I respect you because you care – truly care what happens to those I love most in this world. So it's not about that." She was silent as she thought, then she snorted and giggled, "And truthfully, it's a crazy story that I can scarcely believe and I lived it."

"Can you at least tell me what you are to each other?"

Kirra raised an eyebrow, "I would have thought that would have been obvious. What do you think we are to one another and I'll tell you if you're hot or cold."

The girl said some surprising things, "Hot or cold?"

Kirra grinned as she threaded her needles and set them beside the little knife, "Yeah, it's a children's game. Something is hidden and when the finder comes to find it, they are helped with the words _hot_ or _cold_. Hot meaning you're very close and cold, well, I'm sure you can figure that out."

Arthur's brow furrowed. Was life only a game to the girl? "Well, it's obvious that you are lovers."

"Oh, you're hot," Kirra said with a mischievous smile, "but still not there."

Arthur frowned, "But there is something more."

Kirra made a soft sound of apology, "Oh, so close, yet still so far. Think about it Arthur. You're highly intelligent, you'll get it eventually. But I don't know why it matters so much, it won't change anything."

"So why not tell me and end the game?" Arthur said reasonably.

The girl grinned again, "I could, but it's so much more fun this way."

Arthur sat back and gave her a hard look. It was apparent, he was not going to get anything more out of the girl, "Oh, yes, quite the joyful experience."

Kirra laughed, "So, what story shall I tell you as we begin our little tryst?"

"Story?" He was confused.

"The men haven't told you?"

He shook his head.

"Well, every time they come they get a story. It helps to pass the time and takes their mind off of what I am doing."

"What stories do you tell them?"

Kirra chuckled, "Fairy tales mostly, although some prefer poems or songs."

"My men listen to children's tales?" Arthur's hazel eyes were disbelieving.

"Yes, and they _like_ them, but they won't tell you that."

"Who likes what?" He was interested to know who listened to what.

Kirra laughed, "Again, I never thought you a gossip. You surprise me. That is why the door is always shut when one of them is in here. They must not discuss it outside of this room. Maybe they know that it happens with all of them, but maybe not." She leaned in conspiratorially and said in a low voice, "I will tell you that if you listen for the story that Bors' children like the best, then you will hear the one that he likes best."

Kirra was ready to begin working on Arthur, "Since you don't have a favorite yet, I will tell you of a man named Robin Hood. I think you will like him, maybe not. We'll see."

She commenced with the story, strangely her voice had the same effect on Arthur as it did on the others. He relaxed as she spoke, pausing only to warn him that she was about to cut him and that it would sting.

It did more then sting and Arthur grimaced as she cut his crusted wound open again. Pus poured out and Kirra squeezed his arm to make sure she got out as much as possible. Her voice never wavered in the story throughout the whole process. Then she held the wound open wide as she searched for any possible tree residue. Arthur clenched his fists and forced himself to sit still. She pulled out a few splinters and satisfied that she had gotten them all she had him hold a cloth over the raw, bleeding mess as she turned to get a cloth to wash it.

Arthur was already regretting coming to Kirra when she once again warned him that she was going to hurt him. He held his face impassive when she said this, which seemed to amuse her because she grinned at him, then touched the cloth to the gash on his arm. Without thinking, he shot up and away from her.

"What was that?" He clutched at his arm, it was on fire.

His eyes widened, he had forgotten that the water she had used on the infant had foamed in the same way. It must have been the same type of water. No wonder she had caused the baby to sleep. It would not have been able to handle that kind of pain.

Kirra came towards him and took his arm to lead him back to the cot, "It is just a little wash water, Arthur. Do you want it to stay infected?"

"No, but that is no water that I have ever felt."

"You are right there. It is a little different. The stinging will subside and you will not have even the threat of infection again." Then Kirra chuckled, "Just remember: no pain, no gain. Now hold still, I am not finished yet."

"Oh, I quite think you are." He stated turning to keep his body between her and his wounded arm.

"No, I'm not. Really, the great Arthur Castus afraid of a little wash water." She was teasing him, taking his mind off of the throb in his arm. He could understand why the men came to her; she made them feel good even when they were hurting.

Arthur scowled, but sat and let her continue. The remaining cleansing was much more tolerable then the first had been and he had to admit she did a thorough job. By the time she was finished there was no doubt in his mind why there would be no threat of infection. She and her water had practically scoured his skin away.

He sat back against the wall when he saw her coming at him with a needle and thread. "Is that really necessary?"

"Don't like needles, huh?" Kirra was threading the needle and didn't look up, "What would Lancelot say?" She taunted and laughed at the dark look that covered his face. If Lancelot found out, he would never hear the end of it. "Don't worry, that's why I keep the door closed and I will never tell him."

Kirra leaned in close and pinched his arm drawing his attention from the first stick of the needle. Arthur found that she was swift and sure in her stitching and he was glad and she had resumed her story, which eased the pricking of the needle further.

It was an interesting story, but one he was not sure if he liked. He was too civil minded to put up with a bandit who stole from others -- even if it was for a good cause. There were other ways of doing things and getting the same point across.

Kirra finished stitching and slathered on a rather smelly paste, then she quickly re-wrapped his arm with clean bandages and placed a mug of tea in his hand.

"Drink up. It tastes better warm than cold and you can't leave until it's finished. Once Bors sat with me in here all afternoon because he refused to drink it." Arthur peered into the mug as Kirra continued, giggling, "He only finished it because Van came in and yelled at him to get home."

Arthur took a gulp and immediately wished he hadn't. It was vile. "This is better warm then cold?" He asked in a questioning voice.

"Well, a bit." She was still laughing, "It doesn't really taste great anyway, but it is very good for you. It will make a man out of you." Then she leaned down and whispered, "But there is some honey up on the high shelf if you would like it."

Arthur practically leapt off the cot to get it, knowing that it was hardly the dignified behavior of a Roman commander, but the tea tasted almost like the wash water had felt.

Kirra handed him a spoon as he sat back down and laughed merrily, "You can only have it the first time. So enjoy."

"I don't think I will be coming back."

Kirra had sat down at her little table and was writing on a clean piece of parchment, she snorted at his comment, "That is what they all say, but I am irresistible. I don't think that you will be able to resist me either. When you are done you can leave. Oh, and if any little rashes show up, let me know." She grinned again at his dark look.

Arthur finished the tea. The honey helped a bit, but he would rather let a limb rot off then have to drink that again anytime soon. He opened the door to leave and stopped when Kirra called him back.

"I forgot something."

Arthur dragged himself back in and sat down. Kirra rose and surprised him when she reached for his hand and held it firmly in her own small, warm hands. She murmured a few melodic words, that he didn't understand and suddenly he felt light, like his worries had disappeared. He smelled the cool misty hills that rose all around the fort and he tasted the dampness of the early dew in his mouth. It caused the bitter after-taste of her vile tea to disappear. He looked up at Kirra in amazement.

"What was that?"

She smiled, "Just a special service I offer to all my patients."

"But what was that?"

"I will assume you mean the smell or taste. That, is the desire of your heart."

His eyes darkened in distrust, "How do you know the desire of my heart?"

Kirra smiled gently, suddenly looking the child she was, "I don't, but you do. It is different for everyone. Some can smell the steppes of their homeland, others their children. The tastes range too, but it is always something wholesome and comforting."

"What do you smell and taste?"

Kirra smiled, her grey eyes sparkling, but Arthur knew her meaning "That is my own business, Sir." And she turned back to her table.

"Kirra,"

The woman glanced back.

"Do you have everything that you need? I mean for your comfort here at the fort."

She looked startled at the question. "I think so."

"If there is anything that you need, please tell me. I have noticed that having you here has done something for the men. They are changed and now that I have visited with you, I am sure that you are the cause for it. They seem to have hope." Arthur eyed the young woman steadily. She didn't seem to know what to make of his words.

She frowned in thought, "Well, since you are offering, I would love to have someone to help me with my clothes. I never have enough time to wash them. Oh! And someone to help me draw water for a bath some nights. One not in the public baths."

Arthur smiled at her, only a woman would ask for such things, "I will see what I can do. In the meantime, thank you, Kirra."

She nodded and he left her House.


	28. Chapter 28

**#28 Cold**

Kirra finished up with her records and tidied up, passing the time as she waited for any others that might straggle in. No one came and after awhile she decided it was safe to lock up and relax.

She went outside and sat against the low wall that ran around her herb garden, basking in the late afternoon sun. She yawned and closed her eyes, ignoring the cold of the ground and listening to the stillness. Here it was quiet and peaceful, cut off from the bustling village and far enough away from the practice yards that no clang of metal on metal could be heard, but close enough that she could be there in an instant, if she was needed -- which wasn't often.

She heard one of the last bees buzz through the dying herbs in hopes of finding something to take back to the hive, and began to drift off hidden from view by the wall and warmed by the sun. She felt more then heard someone enter the garden and sit beside her. Without opening her eyes she asked the man, "How many did you kill?"

Tristan answered, "Enough." and countered, "How many did you heal?"

Kirra smiled, Tristan was talkative today that was a good sign. She scooted a bit closer to the warmth of his body and leaned her shoulder against his.

She yawned and answered, "Not enough."

"I heard there was a birthing."

_Hmmm, the truth comes out._

Kirra opened one eye and looked sideways at him. Tristan was staring over the garden and not looking at her.

"Did Vanora send you?"

He didn't answer.

Kirra sighed in defeat. This was the one person she couldn't lie to. Gawain, she wouldn't and Tristan, she couldn't. He saw through them. "Fine. Yes there was and it was a rough one."

At this Tristan turned and looked straight at her, his dark eyes sober, "You need to tread lightly in dealing with the Romans, sister."

She opened both eyes, "I think that we have already had a version of this conversation, Tristan." She reminded him disparagingly.

"Yes." He agreed.

"But she needed help." Kirra protested, her hands gesticulating wildly. "The physician almost killed her and the baby. They came to me as last resort. I _had_ to help her." Her eyes pled for him to understand.

"Perhaps," His voice was low and calm. "But if something had happened they would have blamed you."

So, he was worried. Tristan: The Unshakable was again worried, about her.

Kirra smiled and firmly stated, "The Romans won't hurt me; that much I do know."

He looked at her, eyebrows raised in interest.

"Tristan, once again, they won't hurt me because of who I am. It would be enough if I only had a lover who was one of the knights," she explained slowly as if he were slow and hardly able to understand her.

"But my brother is one of the most feared men around," She nudged him with her shoulder playfully. "They know that they would not live to see the dawn if they harmed me in any way. Besides," her voice turned flippant, "they all think that I am a witch and will put some curse on them." Kirra snorted and muttered, "So much for unsuperstitious Christians."

Tristan was not pleased with Kirra's belief of her state of affairs. She seemed unable to grasp the true nature of their life at the fort. "Still, we are gone away from the fort for long periods of time. We would feel more comfortable if you would not deal with the Romans, at least not while we are away and unable to protect you." It was a command, gently given, but a command none-the-less.

If he had been anyone else, Kirra would have told him exactly where he could shove his command, but as it was Tristan, she merely sighed and nodded her compliance, "All right, I promise not to _deal_ with the Romans -- while you are gone, but if you are here, than I can't make any promises."

Tristan gave a curt nod then surprised her when he handed her a cloth wrapped bundle. Kirra opened it, it was a loaf of bread, still warm and her mouth watered. She looked over at him grinning in enthusiasm.

"You had better be careful, or someone will think that you are beginning to like me."

He smiled a rare smile that lit his features and made him look younger than he normally appeared, "You look thin."

Kirra tore off a chunk and offered it to him; he took it from her. "I _am_ thin. I sometimes get too busy to eat."

She popped a piece of bread into her mouth. One good thing about being here was the bread. It was so good; crusty on the outside and moist and chewy on the inside. Perfect.

They ate for awhile in companionable silence, enjoying the deepening evening. Kirra was surprised that Tristan had stayed with her for so long. She wondered briefly if he had another reason for coming.

"Tristan, is that all you needed or are you hurt?"

He gave her a funny look.

"Okay, I'll take that as a great, resounding 'NO'. It's just that you are still here. You never stay this long. You usually just tell me what you want and leave. I was just wondering if you had an ulterior motive. Although, I doubt that you would come to me even if you were hurt."

"I am not sure I can afford your fee," He gave her a sly glance.

"What fee?" Kirra was puzzled; she didn't charge anyone a fee. Then it dawned on her, the shirt thing. How had he found _that_ out? She laughed, "Well, maybe you're right. I guess you will just have to keep going to Dag then, although, I'm much more entertaining then he is."

"So, I have heard." Tristan stood to leave, "I will come to you if I have need."

"I'll not hold my breath."

He smiled again and offered quietly, "Would you like me to walk with you back to the barracks?"

Kirra was surprised by him again so she teased, "I think you _are_ beginning to like me. No, I am going to sit here awhile longer and enjoy the quiet, but thanks anyway."

She watched as he turned to leave, but he stopped and looked at her pointedly, "Kirra, someone once told me, and I have found it to be true, that anger is a wasteful emotion. When it rules your life, you find yourself alone and very cold." With those as his parting words, Tristan turned and slipped away.

Kirra shook her head. Sometimes Tristan could be so obscure.

She sat and pondered his words until the first shadows of night touched her skin. She shivered and decided it was time to go in and try to sleep. She was a bit put out that Gawain hadn't come to find her and apologize, but that would do better to wait until after they both had had a good night's sleep.

------------------

As Kirra entered her damp cold room all thoughts of a good night's sleep were pretty much dashed. She changed into her nightgown and climbed into bed, too weary to even attempt to get a fire going. She would just have to freeze tonight.

After a couple of hours of tossing and turning and freezing -- while tossing and turning, Kirra gave up. She slid out of bed and quietly opened the door to her room. She saw no one as she peeked into the corridor and ran lightly through the cold to Gawain's room. She knew that it would be warm in there and grinned when she thought of how he would react when she put her icy feet on his legs.

She opened the door, wincing as it creaked, and slipped inside. Sure enough it was warm; a cheery fire crackled pleasantly, but Gawain was not asleep. Far from it, he sat in a chair facing the door, seemingly waiting for her.

"I had hoped you weren't angry enough to make me sleep alone," he said with a small, sheepish smile.

Kirra took a deep breath as comfort surrounded her. Gawain looked wonderful, sitting there, hair and skin burnished by the fire light. He was so strong and yet so gentle; it never failed to take her breath away. He didn't have to be so careful of her, but he was and Kirra loved him all the more for it, but she did have a reputation to uphold.

She gestured dismissively, "Well, I tried, but it was too cold in my room, so I thought I would come and put my feet on your back as punishment for your thoughtless words. But it seems since you're awake, I will have to give you a severe tongue lashing."

His eyes were serious, "You know I didn't mean what I said."

Kirra sighed and crossed the room, settling herself in his lap, "I know, but I was tired and cranky and you know I turn into a beast when I'm cranky. I missed you, you know."

Gawain put his arms around her and rested his cheek against her hair, "And I missed you."

"So I heard. So much it almost made Gareth sick."

"He'll live." There was a comfortable silence before Gawain said, "So, where's my severe tongue lashing?"

Kirra snuggled closer and yawned, "We'll get to that tomorrow, right now, I am comfortable and right where I want to be. Hope you are as well, 'cause I'm not moving."

"That's a shame," he replied with a little shrug of indifference. "Because I was made to think that you wanted a bath tonight and so, several people had to go through a lot trouble to haul water and heat it."

Kirra sat up and looked at him eagerly, "Well, if they went to all that trouble, than I can't let it go to waste. Where is it?"

Gawain smiled at her enthusiasm, "Actually back in your room. I thought you would come here, sooner or later. We were just waiting until you left to get it ready."

"We?"

"Aye. You don't think that any of us would let our little healer go without so trivial a thing as a bath, now do you?"

Kirra was so touched – or it could have been because she was so tired; tears glimmered in her eyes, "All of you helped? But you just got back and are all so weary." She gently ran her fingers over the circles under his eyes.

"Well, Gal was convinced that his stitches would come out and he would have to go back and drink more of your swill, so he supervised while the rest of us worked. But I managed to convince the others that it would be in all our best interests if they helped me to get out of the, how do you put it, the dog house. They agreed."

Kirra giggled, "This is all a big ploy to get me to forgive you?"

"Did it work?"

She leaned close and kissed his lips, softly, "What do you think?"

"I'll take it as a yes." Gawain grinned, but again became serious, "And you know, drawing water for a bath, between seven grown men, is nothing, Kirra. All you have to do is ask. You do enough for us."

Gawain got to his feet with Kirra still in his arms, "Come on before the water gets cold."

Though he had said everyone had helped, there was not a soul to be seen as he carried her down the corridor to her room.


	29. Chapter 29

**#29 Helpless**

"But you have to let me go!" Kirra's voice was adamant, but Arthur refused to budge and no one argued with him.

She appealed to each of the gathered men in turn and saw that not one of them was going to speak in her behalf and it infuriated her. She felt like stamping her foot like a little child in the beginnings of a fabulous tantrum.

"Why would you even desire to go with us, Kirra?" Arthur asked gently.

He knew she was furious and didn't want to upset her further. He had never seen the woman in the year and a half she had lived at the fort lose her temper, though he had seen her tired and more than a little annoyed with him and others, she had always kept a tight rein on her temper. Now it seemed that she was to lose total control and he couldn't imagine why now.

He wasn't aware, but Kirra's dreams had been horrible of late. They were true nightmares that left her shaken and terrified, clinging to Gawain and trying to stifle her anguished tears against his chest, not to fall asleep for several hours later after he had talked her through the unknown fear.

Kirra fisted her hands and tried to breathe calmly, but it didn't work. She was more desperate then angry anyhow. "I don't know, other than I know I have to go. It's vital," She explained passionately.

"We've spoken of this before, Kirra and you know we do not allow women to accompany us. It is too dangerous for you and too distracting for us."

Several of the knights nodded in agreement. Bors even went so far as to rap on the table in his agreement. Kirra glared at him darkly until he sat back. Tristan said nothing. His eyes were calm, as always, but set. There was no way, short of Arthur commanding him, that he was about to approve of Kirra's madness. She knew it and stared him down as only one of his own could. As with the beginning, it almost made him feel guilty -- almost.

Gawain wore an expression of frustration. He had already spoken to Arthur and received the same negative answer. There was nothing left that he could do. He had tried to dissuade Kirra from going to the commander to plead her case, but in the end had stepped aside. She had been relatively patient up until this mission, which made Gawain take pause. He wondered if her recent dreams had led up to this.

Kirra looked down and studied the floor, the beginning of tears, glimmering in her eyes. She blinked them back and swallowed hard. When she brought her head back up, she appeared to have her emotions under control. Her voice was tight, but strong.

"Arthur, you know that I would never ask this of you, if I didn't feel it was so important. I don't want to go. I have no desire to go, in fact, the very thought of it chills my blood, but I have to do this thing." When she was upset, Kirra had a tendency to let her second language's wording slip in.

Arthur stood and gestured apology after having looked around the room to gauge how his men felt, "I am sorry, Kirra, but the answer is still and will remain a firm no."

At that, the fight seemed to go out of Kirra and she sagged, "Fine, but take care. All of you." She said in a dark tone and when she left the room the men looked at each other and tried not to notice the shadow that seemed to pass over them or the cold that permeated each one.

-------------------------

"You couldn't have stood up for me?" She asked Gawain when he returned to his room later that night. Clearly, she felt betrayed that he would sit quietly back, while she fought for what she knew was the thing to be done.

He sighed and crossed the room to where she stood in the moonlight framed by the window. It was an old argument. "I tried, Kirra. I talked to him this afternoon before he called my brothers in. I told him of your concerns. He told me the same thing as he did you and as much as I hate to admit it, Arthur is right. It is too dangerous for everyone. Do you think that we could do our job, knowing you were somewhere about and in possible danger? It would drive me half out of my mind and Tristan ..."

Kirra stepped out of his reach, too angry to be touched at the moment, even by him. "I hate this age," She growled, "All of you think you know best just because you are physically stronger, without even considering that for once, a member of the opposite sex might be right. I _need_ to be there!"

He reached for her again, "Kirra, we acknowledge that women are better then us, we know it, we accept it, but the fact of the matter is that you _are _weaker then us -- in this," he amended when she glared at him, "and you could get hurt."

She slapped at his hand, "Don't even go there, buddy. If I am meant to be there, and I feel I am, then I will be fine."

Gawain folded his arms across his chest, his blue eyes hard, "You are not all powerful."

"I am not saying I am." she retorted taking the same pose..

"You cannot go and that is final." Gawain's voice was hard and it was clear he was frustrated. "You can pout about it all you want, but it won't change Arthur's decision – it never does. So you can be angry at me and regret it tomorrow when I am gone, or you can come to me and we can enjoy this night before I have to leave in the morning."

Kirra stopped, looked at him in astonishment and then laughed -- hard, "I can't believe you turned that little rant into a plea for sex. Strike that, I actually can believe that you would do something like that. I just can't believe that after what you did to me that I would consider it."

"Did it work?" He asked gathering the still laughing woman into his arms.

Kirra stopped suddenly serious and looked straight into his eyes, "Only because I am not sure what the future holds – not for you, but …." Her voice faded, her fear adding a tremor to what she had said. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly and smiled, "Now hurry and kiss me so I'll forget to be scared and the reason I'm so mad at you."

Gawain chuckled and did just that, but long after she had fallen asleep in his arms he thought back on her words and tried not to let them chill him.

They left early the next morning, so early that they thought that no one saw them go, but as he turned back one last time, Gareth saw a slender figure watching from high atop the wall. He waved, but the still figure stood impassive and unmoving. Watching.

-----------------------

Tossing and turning, Kirra couldn't seem to get comfortable. Something was making her edgy and nervous, but she couldn't figure out what it was. It nagged at her like repetitive noise that she couldn't find to stop. She knew it had something to do with the knights, but no one knew for sure just where they were.

Finally, the young woman gave up and lit her lamp. It was late and, by all accounts, she should have been exhausted, but she couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that had surrounded her for the past several days.

She sighed and pulled back the blankets. Noise from the tavern could be heard even this far in the barracks and Kirra was in need of company. Perhaps Van could help the feeling of impending doom ease. Kirra dressed and allowed her hair to hang loose down her back. She knew it made her look younger and more vulnerable, but she was too tired to care.

Ignoring the drunken catcalls as she entered the tavern Kirra sat heavily at the knights' usual table and pilled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. Vanora saw her, paused for a moment to retrieve a cup and pitcher of drink and approached her.

"You're up late tonight, Kirra. Everything all right?" the fiery-haired woman asked as she seated herself tiredly beside the girl. She was again in the early months of pregnancy and it was taking its toll on her.

Kirra pinched the bridge of her nose wearily, the start of a fantastic headache was beginning, "I'm fine, Van." She looked up at her friend, "Have you any idea when the men will be home?"

Vanora raised her eyebrow, _so that was it_, "No, lass. Anxious for your man, are you?"

Try as she may, Vanora had never been able to get the full story of where exactly Gawain had been for the weeks he was gone and just how he had found Tristan's younger sister there. But, she was a shrewd woman and had her own ideas as to the couple's true relationship, the rest was unimportant. She saw the bond between the two and knew Kirra began to get jumpy about three days after the fair knight had left, only to calm when he was again home. Her anxiety had come early this time.

Kirra rolled her eyes, "Oh, Vanora. I am just more worried then usual – not about Gawain, he'll be fine. I don't know who I'm worried about. And I haven't gotten over Arthur forbidding me to go along." She spread her hand open in a gesture of frustration, "I feel like I should be there with them. It's just … different this time."

Vanora touched the younger woman's shoulder, "Wherever they've gone, lass, it's no place for a lady. Arthur was just tryin' to protect you."

"I know, I didn't really want to go, but I can't help feeling that I should have, for whatever reason. Even after all this time, it still annoys me to have a man make my decisions for me. You would think I would be used to it by this time."

Vanora felt for the miserable young woman. It was hard when the men went away and one was left to wonder if they would ever return. The feeling never eased up, no matter how many times they went out. In fact, every time it worsened. It was only her responsibilities to her children and her job at the tavern that kept Vanora from ripping out her hair with worry each and every time Bors was gone more then two days.

She poured Kirra a full cup of the potent drink she carried; even though she knew the woman never touched the stuff, "Drink up, girl."

"You know I don't drink, Van." Kirra said looking up at her friend.

Vanora smiled devilishly, "It will help you sleep. Just look what it does for the men."

Kirra returned her smile, "True, but then they always wake with a horrible hangover and I feel as though I have one now."

"Well, then, a little ale won't hurt." Vanora persisted.

Kirra chuckled, "Your logic's not very sound, Van." Then she surprised them both by downing the drink in one long gulp. Her stomach roiled violently and she hoped she'd keep it down. "Happy now?"

Vanora nodded as she stood and shooed her off to bed, still chuckling at the sight of her friend's face as she finished her cup and set it down triumphantly. She hadn't the heart to tell her Kirra that she wasn't the only one who knew herbs and what she had drank was merely well-watered wine mixed with a few calming ones. Ones that Vanora had known Kirra needed from the moment she saw the healer walk into the tavern.

Kirra fell asleep almost as soon as she laid her head down for the second time that night, but her dreams were fitful and dark. Dreams she didn't remember when she woke, and was glad for it.

She tried to go about her regular duties of cleaning her House, gathering herbs and restocking her supplies, but her heart was just not into it. She felt distracted and gave up once she nearly chopped her finger off preparing herbs for a tincture.

As she stopped the bleeding and wrapped her finger, the feelings of foreboding that she had been experiencing increased to the point where she could bear it no longer. Her heart was in her throat and its rapid pounding was all she could hear. Making up her mind, she locked up her House and strode off to the tavern. She needed to let Vanora know where she was off to in case her feelings came to naught and the men returned before she did.

Sticking only her head inside the building, Kirra caught Vanora's eye and gave a little wave, pointing in the direction she planned to go. She turned sharply and left before the woman had a chance to stop her.

Entering the near empty stable, she passed by Fate and went straight to Jin's stall. The little mare was faster and had greater endurance then Fate. Kirra quickly slipped Jin's bridle over her head and led her from her stall.

The mare seemed as edgy as her mistress, snorting and shivering as if she were covered in flies. Kirra took note of this and tried to even her breathing as she pulled herself onto the mare's bare back, not bothering with a saddle. As she nudged Jin forward she saw the man left in charge when Jols was away. Darin had an angry expression on his face as he stepped between the horse and the exit.

"Arthur left instructions that you were not to leave, Lady." He said angrily.

_Figures_.

"Get out of my way, Darin, or I'll have Jin trample you."

The man could see that the mare was nervous. She was pulling at the bit and dancing chaotically. Kirra was having a hard time holding her back. Darin raised his arms and spoke soothingly to the horse as he neared her hoping to get a hold of her bridle.

Kirra shook her head, "I warned you." and she loosened her hold on the reins.

Jin, feeling the slackening, took it as permission to bolt, which she did, barely sidestepping the stableman. Darin voiced his displeasure, as he leapt from the horse's hooves, in a string of curses which had Kirra grinning humorlessly.

It didn't take Jin long to leave the safety of the stable and reach the road. People scattered as they saw the mare coming and pulled their children to safety, cursing the rider and her reckless behavior. All were ignored by Kirra as she approached her last and final hurdle: the gate.

As she pulled Jin to a prancing stop, she felt sure that if Arthur had left instructions for Darin he would have left the same for the soldiers guarding the gate. But to her surprise the men, merely shrugged and opened the gate, deciding she was not worth their time.

Kirra paused for a moment to feel from which direction the tug was coming from. Honing in, Kirra turned Jin west and gave the mare her head. Soldiers on the wall watched in surprise as the woman clung to her mount and both seemed to fly up the road.

Kirra alternately let Jin run as she would and then would slow her to a walk, which the mare only just tolerated, stamping and fighting the woman on her back. They ran for miles with Kirra pausing only to make sure she was still heading in the right direction. It was noon before they stopped at the crest of a particularly tall hill and looked down on a small party of riders surrounding one single open wagon. The caravan was moving slowly, which could either be a good thing or a bad thing to Kirra's thinking. She immediately recognized Arthur's white stallion at the head.

Perusing the line, her stormy gaze stopped at the wagon, a gray horse and a blood bay were tied to the back. Squinting, she looked harder and realized that she could make out only dark-haired men on horseback. That meant that Gawain and Gareth were the men currently occupying the wagon. Kirra's heart gave a nasty little jerk as she gave Jin her head for the last time on this journey, a litany of prayers for a miracle running through her mind barely heard over the pounding of her heart.

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Tristan saw the horse and rider on the hill and started forward to ascertain whether it was an enemy. No one knew where they had gone and so he was shocked to recognize Jin with a disheveled and wild-eyed Kirra clinging shoeless and without a saddle to the spotted mare's back. Tristan frowned when it became obvious that Kirra knew something was wrong. His sister did not so much as slow down as he hailed her, but deftly guided her sweating horse around him and continued down the line. Arthur was also completely ignored when he stepped forward.

The men turned and watched as Kirra pulled Jin to an abrupt stop when she reached the wagon, her racing heart slowing and fierce eyes softening only when she knew that it was not Gawain who was injured.

He, instead, held his brother's head in his lap, looking up at her with such a look of helpless sorrow that Kirra found herself gritting her teeth and blinking away tears. Gareth was still and gray. His breath came in uneven, ragged gasps and Kirra noticed that Gawain held a blood soaked rag that he used to wipe blood from his brother's lips when the need arose.

Kirra jumped from Jin's back and gathered her skirts before climbing in the wagon bed to kneel beside Gareth. She brushed a lock of damp hair from his forehead and received no stirring. There was darkness surrounding him and she could feel nothing of him anywhere near.

Biting her lip she peeled back the cloaks that covered him and carefully cut away the soaked bandages and closed her eyes to shut out the ghastly sight of his wounds. He had been slashed deeply from hip to hip, a cut designed to tear into his insides and cause them to spill from his body.

Someone, Dagonet no doubt, had done the best he could and stitched the wound closed but Kirra knew that no matter what she did from this point on, Gareth was beyond help. The internal organs had damaged and were leaking fluids. He would die of toxemia before the actual wound killed him. He had probably been injured further when the men lifted him into the wagon and moved him in attempt to get him home -- to her.

Sitting back on her heels she looked at Gawain. His eyes were tormented and she knew that he would blame himself until his last breath for not being able to save his younger brother, for not forcing Arthur to allow Kirra to accompany them. But in the midst of his pain and torment, she saw a hope that caused her stomach to sink. He was certain that now she was here Gareth would be all right.

"I don't think I can do anything, Gawain." Kirra said softly.

His voice was thick with unshed tears, "Just try."

And Kirra knew, looking into his pleading eyes that she had to try something, anything, even if it were against her better judgment.

Pulling out her little silver knife, Kirra cut her palm and made an identical cut on Gareth's, glancing once again at Gawain she pressed the wounds together, closed her eyes and softly called to the man lying still and silent beside her. Immediately she was immersed in the same pain that Gareth was feeling and it was such that she lost consciousness.

As Kirra had learned, names have awesome power and the exchange of blood -- the ultimate life-force, invokes that power beyond measure; power she had been unsure as to how to handle until now. She heard softly whispered instructions and gave herself over to them.

She suddenly found herself in a dark forest. The trees were tall and had grown together overhead, their branches intertwining to create a thick canopy which the sun could not penetrate. The trunks of the ancient trees were massive and so close together that it appeared Kirra was in a huge tunnel. She stood unsure for a moment, feeling a merciless tug that drew her on.

In front of her, at the end of the dark forest she could see the sun shining bright in a green meadow and it beckoned to her with warmth and light. The heaviness of her heart and the pain she felt melted from her in the heat from that light and she forgot everything in her desire to be in that glorious light. It was only when she saw Gareth walking slowly and cautiously ahead of her that she remembered why she was in that dark place.

"Gareth?" she called hesitantly. Her voice was strangely muffled.

The man turned, "Kirra?" He asked in surprise "You're not supposed to be here."

Kirra shrugged, "I've come to get you."

Gareth glanced at Kirra and then turned his face toward a warm meadow. They were close enough to be able to hear voices beckoning excitedly.

"I am not going back, Kirra. I am tired of that life. I want warmth and peace. I need to be here, with them." He looked toward the light and took another step forward.

Kirra, too, felt the tugging. It was growing and she groaned at the energy she had to exert to ignore it. She placed her hand on Gareth's arm, stopping him for the second time, "What of Gawain?"

Gareth turned and took her hand. His was surprisingly warm and solid. It was not what Kirra would have expected from one on the way to the other side.

"He has you, little sister. He will survive."

"And Galahad?" she protested stubbornly. "Who's he got once you're gone?"

Gareth looked deep into Kirra's eyes, amusement shining from his warm brown eyes, "All of my fellows have one another. Deaths are hard, but expected and a part of the life they live." He explained patiently, not including himself in the statement.

It was then that Kirra knew he had to go. The tugging was too great, he felt it stronger then she did, but he was supposed to follow it as Kirra was not. She felt a sudden tightening in her stomach and gritted her teeth against the pull. She nodded to Gareth and let go of his hand.

"I have to go. I can't stay here much longer. I can feel Gawain and the others calling to us." She said sadly. "Go. I will explain to the others."

Gareth grinned and she saw the dimple in his cheek one last time before he kissed her once on each cheek in farewell. "Something whispers to me that we will meet again, little sister. I think my death was to be."

Kirra clasped her brother-in-law to her once more in a fierce embrace, "Then you are probably correct. Who knows what the goddess has in store for each of us." She stepped back and released him, watching as he disappeared into the light.

She woke weak and trembling in the back of the wagon. She was almost as gray as Gareth. Tristan held her, but it was Gawain's eyes she sought first. She shook her head a little at the question she saw and fought the consequent wave of nausea. A muscle tightened in his jaw.

"Why?" He asked harshly.

Kirra licked her lips and struggled to speak through a parched throat, "It was his time."

"No." Gawain growled, slamming a fist against the wagon's bed, "He was too young. It shouldn't have been like this, not for Gareth."

"Not for any of you, but it is," Kirra stated in a tired voice. She fought to gain her equilibrium as she slowly pulled away from Tristan and sat up. "He wanted to go, Gawain. He accepted it, said it was to be."

Gawain glared at her for a moment, his eyes hard, "Why would the goddess bother to bring you here if you cannot save him?"

The silence was deafening as Kirra's breath left her and she recoiled as if she had been slapped. She placed a gentle hand on Tristan's arm when she felt her brother tense. She could well imagine the expression on his face. Most likely it matched, to some extent, the shock and outrage mingled with grief on the faces of the gathered men.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but Kirra shook her head to silence him. Gawain's remark cut deep and she felt the out-welling of pain from it, but she knew he was grieving and did not mean it as it sounded. Or rather she prayed he did not mean it as it had sounded.

Looking down, Kirra wearily tucked a tendril of wild hair behind her ear, "I do not know why I was sent here, only that I cannot force anyone to stay." She looked up, "Had it been you in his place, I would have let even you go."

Kirra rose and slipped unsteadily off the back to the wagon. The men were quiet as they watched her trudge, barefoot, to her strange little horse, pausing only to gather enough strength to pull herself onto the mare's back. She was finished and had no idea how she could stay on Jin's back long enough to reach the fort. Her heart was heavy and hot tears were burning in her throat and behind her eyes. Guilt and fatigue wore her down and Kirra prayed that in time Gawain would be able to forgive her for being unable to force Gareth back.

Once settled she looked up and caught Tristan's eye, there was no blame visible in those dark depths only worry and she wondered how she would have felt if it had been her brother instead of Gawain's. Would she too have felt betrayed? She avoided looking at the other men and turned Jin's head toward home. Not even Arthur said a word as she nudged the weary mare and left the small party, eager only to be back in her room, alone, under her blankets and sobbing.

She arrived at the fort just before nightfall, ahead of the others, and passed her reins to Darin who had been waiting for her angry that she had disobeyed Arthur and nearly ran him over to do it. One look at her downcast form and he wisely held his tongue and led the mare away for a much needed grooming and feed.

Kirra noticed nothing as she made her way to her dark room and threw herself down on her bed to weep the tears she had been fighting since she had walked away from the little wagon.

She wept for Gawain and Gareth, for her brother and for all of them, living and gone, but mostly she wept for the innocence that had been lost and the harshness of life that had replaced it. Kirra cried until there were no more tears left to cry and she was left hollow and hot. Only then, when mind-numbing exhaustion swept over her did she sleep, curled into a miserable ball, fully dressed and on a wet, tear stained pillow.

Hours later, Kirra awoke. She was still weary and doubted she would ever feel normal again, but knew there was something left she had to do. Quietly she gathered her bag of herbs and needles and left her room. The corridor was cold and silent. It would seem that the men were all asleep, as she knew they had to of returned shortly after her. She made her way stealthily to the Great Hall, where the Round Table lay and where she knew Gareth's body would be laid as it awaited burial.

She found the room unguarded, and why shouldn't it be? No one would have the impudence to desecrate the body of a fallen warrior and expect to get away with it. Kirra cautiously pushed the door open. The room was deserted except for the still body lying in the center covered in white linen and lit by the torches burning at the walls. The men had been too weary and heartsick to have done little more then lay him in the room and cover him.

Kirra ducked under the table and approached her brother-in-law's body. She had no idea what she was doing there, what had possessed her to go there, but she knew she had to do this last service, for everyone.

There was a large bucket of water waiting as if just for this purpose and Kirra carefully chose several herbs to crush and sprinkle over the still water. The fragrance was refreshing and calming. Then gently, with tears streaming down her face, she re-stitched the wounds with her small, fine work and cleansed Gareth's body of the remaining blood and dirt.

Instinctively, she crooned an ancient chant, asking the gods to take the warrior to them and allow him rest with his loved ones. In the unfaltering melody could be heard the life story of the man, his strengths, his weaknesses, but mostly his honor and loyalty and love for those he considered his friends. Kirra dressed him in clothing she had filched from his room and kissed his cheeks before again covering him with the winding sheet.

She glanced back once at the still form before closing the door and returning to her room. In all her time spent with Gareth, she never once took note of the dark shadow sitting in one dark corner of the room, watching. Not long after she had left, he pulled himself to his feet and wearily followed after.

Kirra crawled into her cold bed without worrying over a fire. She was exhausted beyond anything that she had ever felt before and lonely. She was just drifting off when the door opened and Gawain crept into the room. He stripped himself of his clothing and lay down next to her. Kirra did not move, pretending to be asleep until the man reached for her and crushed her to him, burying his face in her hollow of her throat. Gawain's arms tightened around her until Kirra imagined she could hear her ribs cracking.

"Forgive me," He said, sounding lost, broken.

Kirra shifted to allow for more breathing room and wrapped her own arms around him, cradling him to her as if he were a small child.

"I can do nothing but." She whispered and began to hum the same old lullaby her mother and grandmother had once sung for her when she was a child. It had an almost immediate effect, but not the one that Kirra had expected.

She initially thought that shock had driven Gawain to seizing, but what she thought was shaking, she soon realized to be deep, wracking sobs of the most heart-rending kind and Kirra was unable to keep the tears from falling from her eyes as Gawain wrapped himself around her and clung as if she were his only sure rock in a whirlwind of grief.

She lay still, offering the only kind of comfort she could until the storm blew itself out and Gawain lay still, asleep. She kept vigil through the night, moving only to run a soothing hand down his back when his breath caught in a silent sob.

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The burial was a sad affair, the first -- and hopefully last, to take place since Kirra had arrived. She stood, empty and dry-eyed, between Tristan and Gawain and as she looked around the tight circle of remaining knights, she wondered who would be next and if she could handle another such loss, even knowing what she did of the afterlife.

Arthur spoke a few words, meant to comfort, but Kirra doubted that they did anything. He looked older somehow, as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders and she knew at times like this he must hate being the leader of men. When he was finished speaking and the last of the mourners had drifted away to whatever comforts they could find, Gawain at last turned to leave.

He had said his good-byes and though he would visit often, he wished to be elsewhere now. Kirra, though, pulled away from him and approached the fresh mound. She had brought a small twist of early flowers and herbs.

All through the brief ceremony the light fresh scent could be smelled floating on the breeze. She knelt for a moment at the head of the grave and whispered something lost on the wind before placing the flowers on the rich earth. She rose and brushed the clinging dirt from her skirts and rejoined Gawain, slipping her small, comforting hand in his. He never asked what it was she told Gareth that day and she never told him.


	30. Chapter 30

**#30 Darkness and Joy**

Six months had passed from Gareth's death. Gawain still grieved, but only in dark, quiet moments in the middle of the night. Kirra helped him where she could, but knew that there were some things she could not fix and let him feel what he would -- instinctively she knew it would help the healing process. She was always there with a calm word and a warm embrace when he needed it, though.

The spring had swiftly flowed into summer and now it was again autumn and just at the peak of the harvest. The usual festival had been held so Kirra had been up late dancing and laughing with Gawain and the others and she and Gawain had just retired for what was left of the night when a loud banging on the door pulled them from sleep. Gawain groaned and rolled from Kirra to answer the door, cursing under his breath. Kirra nestled further into the warm blankets, determined to stay asleep, until she heard Vanora's name said. She popped up and bounded out of the bed to stand at Gawain's side, concern darkening her eyes.

It was Dagonet at the door explaining the situation and asking for Kirra. He was not at all surprised when she suddenly appeared clad only in her nightclothes, hair rumpled and face flushed from sleep. When he was home, Kirra was never found very far from Gawain.

"Wha's wrong, Dag?" Kirra demanded, rubbing her eyes and blinking to clear the last remnants of sleep.

"Van's in a bit of trouble. She's bleeding pretty heavy and the baby can't come." His voice was low, but Kirra could hear the undercurrent of panic in it. Things must be bad if Dag was panicked.

She pushed passed him and ran down the hall to her room. Upon entering, she pulled off her nightclothes and threw on a clean dress then grabbed the small pack of herbs she kept with her in case of emergency and ran back to where Dagonet and Gawain stood waiting.

They quickly arrived at the small house that Bors and Vanora shared. It was strangely quiet and the windows were dark and seemingly empty. Kirra entered passing briskly through the house pausing only to glance at the children clustered together in the main room. They were still and silent; their eyes wide and round in fear. Kirra could feel their terror and it pounded at her. The oldest children tightly clasped the younger ones in hopes of giving and receiving some comfort. Bors was waiting with them, quiet and still and pale as the children.

To Kirra, he appeared to be in shock. Fear etched deep lines in his face. She knew he must feel very helpless and for men like him and the other knights, helplessness was not a feeling they tolerated well. These were men of action and Bors was far too quiet for her liking. She spared no more then a disapproving glance at him before continuing to make her way to the back. Why was he not with Van? He followed her.

Kirra entered the back room in which Vanora was laboring Bors at her heels. Gawain and Dagonet hung back just inside the doorway. She wrinkled her nose at the smell. Something unwholesome and dark was burning over the fire; its acidic smoke filled the room making it heavy and oppressive. It weighed them down and took away hope. Kirra had the distinct feeling that the walls were closing in on them all.

Vanora laid white and panting on a bed at the far side of the room. Her face was pale and drawn with pain. Tendrils of sweat dampened hair, uncomfortably resembling blood, clung to her face. The same physician who had attended the birth of the Roman baby years earlier was urging her to push. He stopped short when he saw Kirra followed by the woman's lover and two other large, somber knights enter the room. He stepped away and cleared his throat nervously, his small eyes flicking from face to face.

Kirra held up her hand in a sharp gesture to stop him from making some poor excuse. But she could spare thought for him; her full attention was drawn to the farthest corner of the room. For there, in the dark shadows, was a deeper shadow, one that she had never seen, one that caused her heart to accelerate in fear. She took a hesitant step forward only to recoil, gasping and stumbling back in horror. Her small pack dropped from numb fingers and she looked down and forced her heart to beat normally. It would do no good for her to panic; it would only cause the men and Van to panic.

Gawain took the several steps needed and grasped Kirra's shoulders to steady her. He looked in the direction in which she had been staring but saw nothing. He glanced at the other two men who stared uneasily at her and shook his head in confusion.

Kirra looked at the men in disbelief. Could they not see that in the darkest corner of the room Death waited? She glanced back and he seemed to know she could see him. She closed her eyes when he smiled at her from under his hood, a gleam of dry white teeth in the darkness of the shadow. She knew his meaning; he could wait for as long as it took but eventually he would have his prize.

Kirra looked over to the physician, her eyes wide in horror, and asked in a chilling voice, "What have you done?"

The man, not understanding Kirra's question began to stutter in his defense that he was doing the best he could and so on and so forth. She ignored him and strode to the window. The Roman wrung his hands and made clucking noises of disapproval when she threw back the hangings to let the night air enter and cleanse the room of the dark and unholy stench. Kirra noticed that Death retreated further into the shadows avoiding the pure beams of moonlight that streamed in.

"No, you will let the ill humors in." the physician protested wildly as he crossed the room to cover the windows.

Kirra's bared teeth glistened wolfishly in the moonlight as she snarled at him. He stopped short, swallowing convulsively in fear. "You are the only ill humor I see here tonight." She hissed.

She advanced on the man with a dangerous look in her darkening eyes. He gave a small yelp as she grabbed his arm and shoved him towards the door with far more strength than he though such a small woman should possess.

"Get out," Kirra's voice was soft and deadly. "And if I ever so much as see you walking on the same side of the road as a woman with child, I promise you, I will hunt you down and kill you myself and it will not be over quickly."

The physician's eyes rolled back in his head and he practically fell over himself in his haste to get away from the deadly little woman in front of him.

When Kirra tuned to back to the men, they were looking at her as if they half feared her. Gawain took a hesitant step forward and Kirra shook her head roughly and made some attempt to speak in a normal tone, "I am fine."

She spared no time for any explanations, but went to Vanora. On her way over she passed by the fire and looked into the pot that hung over it. The contents looked like sludge and smelled worse than sulfur. She wrinkled her nose and looked back at the waiting men.

"Dag, take that out and bury it. Make sure that you do so far away from any living thing. Please bring in some fresh water and put it on to boil. Bors, come here. You helped to create the child and so you will help Van through delivering it."

Tense and white-faced, the two men did as they were told while Gawain waited in uneasy silence for orders.

Kirra questioned Bors, "How long has she been like this?"

"Her pains started this mornin' and then things just got worse …" His voice trailed off. Kirra could see he was in shock.

She hissed at him, "And you didn't send for me?"

Vanora answered panting, "You were busy earlier and havin' a good time tonight and then Gawain was actually smilin' for once, I just wanted to let you be."

Kirra looked at her sharply, "It doesn't matter where I am or what I'm doing, if you need me, not Gawain's smile or all the Legions of Rome with the Pope leading them can keep me from coming."

Kirra felt momentary guilt for the fun she had been having while her friend had been suffering. She hadn't even noticed that Vanora had been absent. She rolled her head to relax and took a deep breath. Her eyes lightened to their customary grey and the anger left her, replaced with a feeling of urgency. Dag re-entered with the water and set it to boil.

Kirra retrieved her pack from the floor where it had fallen and dug through it. She took out a small bowl and dipped a little of the water into it. Standing in the moonlight she swirled it a bit and then washed up with a pinch of her soap.

"Van, I am sorry, but I have to check you." Vanora's eyes were closed, but she nodded weakly. "Gawain, Dag, you can leave, but don't go too far. Bors, you stay put."

They didn't wait to be told twice. Kirra sat in the edge of the bed, angered by the bloody sheets. D_amn Roman_, she thought as she checked the laboring woman. She stopped when things didn't quite feel right. Upon closer examination, she told Van in a somewhat level voice to stop pushing.

Vanora looked at her in surprise as did Bors, "But …" She was stopped by the force of a particularly strong contraction.

"Just blow, Van. Don't push." Kirra ordered, "If you do, you could risk harm to yourself and the baby."

Vanora moaned and bit her lip, drawing blood as she struggled against her body's instincts. Bors looked at Kirra hard. He had had enough of vague answers and wanted to know what was going on. He was upset enough to take his frustration out on the healer.

"Start explainin', girl."

Kirra was steady as she met his eyes, "The afterbirth is coming first. If Van pushes it out first, then it could tear away from her womb and she could bleed to death, or it could pinch the baby's cord and cause the baby to suffocate. Or both could happen."

At her pronouncement Bors went deathly white. Van had heard enough through the waves of pain to know that she was in real danger.

She asked in a small voice, "What do I do? The child has to come out."

"He will Van, I promise you that. I just have to help him a bit." Kirra tried to sound confident, though inside she was shaking like a leaf.

"How you gonna do that?" Bors demanded with a frown.

Kirra looked at the couple and waited for another contraction to pass, "Do you trust me? I mean _really_ trust me. I can help, but only if you can trust me with your life and the life of your baby."

Bors looked as if he might balk, but Vanora simply nodded her head.

"I have to cut you open to get the baby."

Bors stood up angry, "You can't do that. It will kill her." He loomed over Kirra who sat watching with her brother's infuriatingly stoic expression.

"Oh, I assure you I can do it and it won't. Where I was raised children were delivered by this method almost more then they were delivered naturally." Kirra was calm.

Vanora moaned and clutched at the bed sheets, Bors sat down heavily. He was at a loss. Vanora looked at him and nodded her agreement. She was ready to do anything, if it meant the pain would end.

Kirra briskly stood and moved beside Bors, "Good. I am going to put you to sleep, Van – like I did with Nine. You won't feel anything. You'll wake later, after I'm finished." She placed her hand on Vanora's head then said quietly, "I promise you that you and the baby will be fine." Vanora merely nodded and Kirra wove a limited sleep spell.

When Vanora was unconscious, Kirra turned to Bors and touched his arm, "Please trust me. They will both be fine. Stay here, I have to go and get a few things. I will get someone to watch over the other children." Bors didn't look at her as she left the room.

Outside of the room, Kirra started issuing orders, "Dag, please find me all the clean linen you can." She walked into the room where the children were gathered. She stood in front of them with a bright smile, gathering their fear and taming it, "Children, I need you to come with me. We are going to play a little trick on some friends of mine and I need your help. Afterwards, I am sure that they will be happy to tell you a few stories."

The older children nodded and climbed to their feet as Kirra picked up one of the smallest and handed him to Gawain, who promptly froze, holding the child away from his body. She picked up another small one and beckoned for the rest to follow her. Gawain caught up with her outside the small house. H noticed that they were making their way back to the barracks.

"What is going on in that head of yours, Kirra?" He watched her closely, mirroring her cradling of the child she held, with the one in his arms. He was surprised at how comfortable it felt – once the child determined he was not going to be dropped and stopped squirming.

"We have to get the children away for the night. It's doing none of them good to be there. I need you, Galahad, and Gar --" she broke off abruptly, kicking herself at her slip up. Six months and she still spoke of Gareth as if he were alive. Gawain said nothing so Kirra hurried on, "You and Gal maybe Lancelot to entertain them for awhile."

Gawain had more pressing problems than berating Kirra for an obvious mistake. "Entertain them?" He was at a loss, what did he know about children? What did Galahad know about children for that matter? And Lancelot? Well, that was laughable.

Kirra sighed, "You know, games and stories and such. Between the three of you, you have heard enough stories that you should be able to keep the children busy for hours. If that doesn't work, I don't know, teach them how to throw knives or something like that."

"These are Vanora's children; I don't think that is such a good idea. She might get even with us."

Kirra smiled up at him in reassurance," If it helps, she will be down and out for over one moon span. Trust me she will not even be thinking of moving."

-------------------------

The night proved to be one of the longest that Kirra had ever lived through, but at last, just as the sun was peeking over the horizon, the thin wavering wail of an infant could be heard throughout the small home.

Kirra tied off the last stitch and wiped wearily at her eyes. She had never felt so fatigued. After bathing her friend and changing her into a clean shift, Kirra felt as if she could sleep for a year. She looked at Bors, cradling his newest bastard, and smiled.

"Bors," the big man looked up at her. His expression one of complete love, "I'm leaving. Van will most likely sleep until noon or longer. She will be in quite a bit of pain. I am leaving an herb packet. Steep it until it is a dark green and then make her drink it. It will help tighten her womb and ease her pain. If it doesn't help much send one of the children and I will try another way."

He nodded and rose from the bed, careful not to disturb the mother of his child. Kirra was surprised to find tears glimmering in his eyes, tears he made no effort to hide, "Thanks, girl." He said gruffly, slinging his free arm around Kirra and giving her a brief, but crushing hug, "I was afraid Vanora was goin' to leave us. You saved her and the child."

Kirra hugged the big man back, "How could I do otherwise? She's the only woman friend I have here. There is nothing that I wouldn't have done to make this easier on her." Her gaze sharpened, "You should have called me first."

Bors nodded and grinned broadly, "Next time we will." He promised.

Kirra shook her head. After all that, the man was actually thinking of the next time. "Perhaps you had better discuss that with Vanora and I personally would wait a couple of weeks, before you go making any plans the likes of that."

He chuckled, "You better get off now and rescue whoever it is that is you stuck with bastard duty."

Kirra giggled as she left the little house, Dag on watch at the door, and approached the barracks. She began to hurry as there was not one sound coming from any of the rooms. She fairly burst through the door to Galahad's room, but stopped abruptly, giggling as soon as she could make out the dim interior.

Sprawled over the bed and piled every which way on the floor were sleeping children, men, and one huge dog. Gawain held two small children curled in his arms. Galahad had one, and each was leaned upon by others. Vanora's particularly vivacious five-year old was sprawled across Lancelot's lap. Two others lay with their heads pillowed on Finn. It was a sweet sight.

Kirra picked her way around the children and knelt in front of Gawain gently she reached out and touched her palm to his cheek, "Time to wake up, Sleeping Beauty."

The knight stirred and opened one eye, "Let's us sleep, woman, we are run ragged. How their mother does it, I'll never know."

Giggling again Kirra kissed him and silently left the room. She wearily made her way to Gawain's room down the hall and stripping her dress off fell into bed and immediately fell into the deep sleep of the truly exhausted. After her door had shut, Tristan melted out of the shadows and settled himself beside it to make sure that no one disturbed his sister's well deserved rest. And for a time peace descended over the barracks and all were in good hands.


	31. Chapter 31

**#31 The Bishop**

Kirra was visiting Vanora on one of her rare days away from the tavern. She had healed well from her ordeal and Eleven had grown quickly. He was now a pudgy, happy baby of six months, who looked the spitting image of his father – no matter what Lancelot said.

"Kirra lass, how do you do it?" Van asked as they sat near the fire sipping hot tea and enjoying the relative peace.

It was never fully peaceful around Vanora's house – there were too many children for that, but Eleven was asleep in his cradle near the fire and the other children ran about outside playing some game that Kirra had been too tired to join in.

Kirra looked over at her friend in confusion, "Do what?"

Van cocked her head, "Heal."

Kirra was quiet a moment as she considered the answer, "We-ell, you know in the autumn when we are to have a good harvest and everyone feels really good and confident about the upcoming winter?"

"Aye," Vanora said slowly, unsure as to how that related to Kirra's healing power.

"Because everyone is happy and content, they tend to stay well and not get sick. The thing is most everyone is capable of healing themselves, they just don't know how to concentrate that inner power in the right area. I happen to be able to do just that and focus it on others."

"But, don't you use the goddess?" Van asked suspiciously.

Kirra nodded, "Yes, I can channel her help through the songs and chants I use; she helps change the water and gives me instincts for things I've not done before. Sometimes it's as if I hear a little voice in my head and it tells me what to do, other times, I just know what to do."

Vanora gave her friend a skeptical look, "Voices?"

Kirra laughed, "It sounds crazy when you say it that way. Mostly I just know what to do – and you have to remember I was taught by a Fate, maybe that has something to do with it."

"What is the whole story behind that?" Van asked haltingly.

Kirra looked up, startled. It had been a long time since she had been asked about that time and for a moment she wasn't sure how to answer or if it would matter at this point if she told the whole truth.

"You've never said anythin' and I've tried not to meddle too much, but I would like to learn the truth about that and about you and Gawain."

Kirra laughed, "You just want fodder for gossip."

A frown creased Vanora's brow and she feigned hurt, "Now, that was uncalled for, lass. You know I don't gossip about friends – just everyone else."

"Yeah, yeah. I've heard you discussing the men before."

"They don't count. They're pig headed bastards the lot of 'em."

Kirra sighed, "All right. I guess it won't hurt anything, being so close to the time the men are to receive their papers."

Arthur and his men were currently on their last mission to find and escort the Bishop who was to give them their release papers to the fort in safety. They had been gone for three days and were expected at any time.

"As you know, I am of Tristan's tribe. I was born out on the steppes some twelve years after him and grew there until a little after he was taken. I got sick – really sick and because the goddess knew what talents were hidden in me, she sent Niara, her oldest Fate, to take me away."

Van frowned, "That doesn't seem right."

"No, but it happened and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. Anyway, I was taken to a place for lost children and there I was adopted by my parents."

"There's nothin' too unusual with that, Kirra, nothin' worth hidin' at least."

Kirra grinned and looked Van straight in the eyes, "My adoptive mother was born in the year nineteen hundred and seventy-six."

Vanora was silent a moment before she blinked and gasped. Kirra nodded encouragement.

"Yeah, I was raised fifteen hundred years from now. So, you can see why I wouldn't want to spread that around."

"How did Gawain find you?"

"He fell through some portal, I guess. He had been very badly injured in a battle and was dying, that may have helped. As silly as it sounds we had to fall in love and get married in order to return." She pulled the chain she always wore out from the bodice of her dress and showed Vanora the strange double-sided, gold and silver key. "One is his and the other is mine, each needing the other to open certain doors."

"Married, eh? I thought as much."

Kirra grinned, "That would explain a lot, huh?"

"More than you know, lass."

Vanora sat quiet long enough for Kirra to finish her tea, then asked, "Why was all that important?"

Kirra took a deep breath, "I've often asked myself that question. Niara, the Fate, said I was saved to come back here and help the knights survive. The stories I learned as a child being raised where I was, lead me to believe that something big is going to happen and that Arthur will need all of his strongest knights around him to help him through it." She paused thoughtfully, "And Tristan and I are all that are alive of our tribe capable of bearing children. I don't know why our blood would be so important, but it is enough that I was saved and sent back to look after his obstinate butt as well."

"That's a task in and of itself." Vanora commented with a laugh.

Kirra giggled as well, "I know."

"Is it hard for you here?" Vanora's tone was suddenly sober.

Kirra pursed her lips, "In the beginning it was hard. Gawain made it easier, but there were so many things you would consider a miracle that were to me an everyday thing that I had such a hard time without." She paused then continued with a grin, "And than there was the food. Some of the stuff I still haven't gotten used to and I miss some things so much. What I wouldn't give for a piece of the most disgusting chocolate or for a cold, day-old Quarter Pounder."

Van had no idea of what Kirra spoke, "And now?"

"I have been here long enough that my old life seems like a dream. My life and purpose is here and now and, truthfully, I wouldn't change that for anything. I do miss my mother, though. My memories of her are still bright and undimmed."

Before Vanora could continue in her interrogation, her oldest son and the only one of her children with a proper name, came clattering into the house.

"Da's back, Mam."

Vanora stood and lifted Eleven from his bed, wrapping him carefully against the brisk breeze of early spring. Kirra gathered their cups and put them on the wash board and followed Van out of the little house.

"Can you believe they'll finally be free of all this?" Kirra asked, gesturing to the fort. "I've never asked, but what are your plans?"

""Well's far as we've talked about it, and given the number of children we have, we'll be stayin' put. My brothers are here and Bors doesn't remember his family. He says they may not accept me and the children anyways."

"I've never thought of that." Kirra said thoughtfully.

"What, lass?"

"How my family will take Gawain. Tristan says our tribes are rivals. It may not go over so well."

Van looked over at her young friend, "Don't worry about it now, Kirra. There'll be plenty of time for that later. Right now, let's concentrate on being happy. Our men will soon be free and we can really begin our lives."

"Will it be that easy, Van?" Kirra asked. She was more tired than usual and had felt a cloud hanging over her for the past couple of days. She was wary as to what it meant, if anything.

"After all we've been through, we deserve easy." Vanora said in a firm tone as if she could command fate.

Kirra only nodded, wishing it were so and life were fair.

----------------------------

Germainus was just handing off his mount when two women and a flock of children flooded the stable. The children and the older woman with a baby on her hip congregated noisily around one of the knights. While the other made her graceful way to the fairest of Arthur's men and threw herself in his arms for a strangely intimate embrace.

He raised an eyebrow as he watched the woman, who had stepped back from the man and was laughing joyfully at his safe return. Her laughter was low and throaty. The mysteriously sexy laughter of a woman that made his gut clench. He watched as she eyed the man closely then rose on tiptoe to touch a thin cut on his throat with a disapproving expression on her exotic face. She folded her arms and listened to the man with obvious coolness, shaking her head every now and then, as he explained what it was had occurred. It was not hard to see her disapproval.

"Who are the woman, Arthur?" Germanius asked.

The commander looked over from where he was issuing orders to a few clustered servants and then turned his attention to the objects of the Bishop's inquiry, "They are the women of two of my men. The dark-haired woman happens also to be the sister to one and their healer as well."

"She will look after my men?"

The question was cool, almost offhanded but at it, Arthur met the Bishop's eyes and noticed that the he was not the only man watching Kirra with hooded eyes; many of the Roman soldiers were staring hungrily after the small woman.

"That is up to her. She came to Briton of her own free will to look after her countrymen. She tends to stay away from the soldiers as many consider her a witch." He explained, alarmed at what he saw in the Bishop's face.

"She is pagan?" Again the question was too innocently put.

"In a manner of speaking. I have a very fine physician already sent for who will tend your wounded men, Bishop." Arthur was calm, his features carefully composed, but concern had set in and he knew it would be best to mention something to Tristan or Gawain about keeping a close eye on Kirra – if they hadn't noticed. Glancing up he saw Tristan watching with a closed expression on his face.

The Bishop waved a dismissive hand, "That would be better." He said, hiding his interest under the thought that having a pagan tend his men would be less than appropriate. Without a seeming second glance, Germainus followed his servant, Horton, to the quarters he would be using during his stay. Arthur watched him go before turning and catching Tristan's eye once more. The dark scout made no indication that he understood, but melted into the shadows to watch and wait.


	32. Chapter 32

**#32 Invitations**

Kirra had just finished tidying up and was getting ready to lock up, when there was a knock on the House door. Upon answering it she found five soldiers facing her. There faces were amused but in a hard way. She didn't recognize any as being form the fort, so she guessed that they were some who had accompanied the Bishop and had not been hurt in the fray.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?" She asked, hoping that her voice was strong enough to hide the growing trepidation that was causing her heart to pound.

The men had loosely spread themselves out effectively blocked any escape routes. She stepped out into the little yard of the House and made a big show of locking the door, hoping to give herself time to think of a way out of the dangerous predicament. It made her severely uncomfortable to turn her back on the soldiers, but she needed the few seconds to compose her face. She wondered frantically where Tristan was; he was usually never far away.

One tall soldier stepped forward, "We have been sent to invite to dine with our lord Bishop."

Kirra swallowed her astonishment and turned slowly, "Well, I have already promised to have dinner with my brother and the other knights. Please, inform the Bishop of my sincere regrets." She said and smiled apologetically as she moved to walk around the soldier.

The Roman sniffed and stepped to block her way, "Perhaps, you aren't hearing me, _lady_. You are to dine with the Bishop this evening as his _personal_ guest." The Roman sneered while his companions chuckled humorlessly.

Kirra could only guess what a _personal_ guest of the Bishop's would be expected to do and she took a wary step back, tossing her hair from her face with a careless gesture and opening her mouth when she spied Lancelot passing near on his way to supper. The group of clustering soldiers had caught his attention and he had come to investigate. Relief flooded Kirra's body and she had to fight to keep her knees from giving out. She immediately slipped her arm through his when the Romans moved away from her and allowed him space to stand at her side.

"What's going on?" Lancelot asked in an easy voice, though his eyes were dangerously dark.

"These fellows were inviting me to dinner tonight." She said as though it were a daily occurrence. "But I told them that I had a previous offer."

"And so you do." Lancelot said laying a possessive hand over hers and looking at the men in challenge.

"The Bishop wishes the girl dine with him tonight." The tall soldier repeated, this time with more respect in his tone.

"Well, she has plans. I am sure the Bishop will understand." Lancelot tightened his hand over Kirra's. "As it is our last night together as a group before we are free to go our separate ways. There is a feast of sorts awaiting us and we certainly could not start without Kirra. Ah, here is Galahad." He said almost pleasantly and handed Kirra off to the wary younger knight then flanked her as they left the Romans standing in the dust looking at each other in consternation.

"What happened back there?' Galahad asked in a tight voice when they were out of earshot.

"The Bishop wanted me to be his _personal_ guest this evening." Kirra said as if the word left a bitter taste in her mouth -- which it did. "I politely declined, saying that I had other plans this evening." She looked over her shoulder nervously.

"You are not to be alone until he leaves." Lancelot ordered giving her a sharp look.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Kirra said at an attempt to be flippant only because it was Lancelot giving the order, but having every intention of obeying him. Her heart was still in her throat and her palms were sweaty.

Galahad stopped her, "Lancelot is right, Kirra. One of us must be with you at all times. You know that Gawain and Tristan will tell you the same thing once they have learned of your _invitation_."

There was nothing like having a bunch of men who though it was their duty in life to order a person around. Kirra made a face, "Fine," She retorted sharply. "I will not go anywhere by myself."

"I think that this will be the perfect opportunity to make good on my plans with Gawain's wife." Lancelot said with a swagger as they continued towards dinner.

Kirra looked up in exasperation, how had he heard? She had only just told Vanora. She pinned him with a first-class scowl. "Only if you want your boys detached from your body as you try to do so," She said with a wolfish smile.

"Now, why would you mention something so cruel? You wouldn't want to deprive the other women of my particular talents, even if you are uninterested, especially when there is so_ little_ other talent around, right Galahad?"

Kirra tried to stifle her laughter as Galahad glared at his fellow knight. He seemed to be angrier then usual tonight. She could feel it radiating from him. It came from Lancelot also, but he was better at hiding it. Kirra would never have known if she hadn't been blessed with her particular gifts.

"You know, Lancelot, one of these days Galahad is going to be big enough to make you eat your words." She said.

"Little sister, I do not think that Galahad will ever be _that_ big, but perhaps we should ask some of the wenches about it. There's Anne, let's ask her." They had arrived at the tavern and one of the prettier girls had seen Galahad and smiled shyly at him.

It was Kirra's turn to groan, "Everything is about sex with you isn't it?"

"When you've got it…"

"Don't finish that sentence, please; it just might make me loose my appetite." Kirra said it in jest, but her stomach was still uncomfortably knotted from her close call with the Bishop's men.

"Fine, but about tonight, what time shall I be at your room?" Lancelot persisted.

"Oh, go sit down, man." Kirra said in exasperation as she pushed at the tall man and sat down at the table next to Gawain.

"What was that all about?" He asked, glancing from his fellow and back to Kirra. Lancelot gave him a pointed look and turned to find a seat.

Kirra waved her hand dismissively, "Oh, you know, with Lancelot it's always about sex. So," she said abruptly changing the subject, "did you get your papers?"

Gawain's face hardened, "No, and we are unsure as to why. We did learn, though, that the Romans are leaving the island."

"Well, that's good news." Kirra said, taking a sip of her wine and making a face. The smell did nothing for her troubled stomach. "Isn't it?" She asked at Gawain's pointed silence.

Gawain gave his head a little shake, "No, they are leaving it to the Saxons." He drained his cup and motioned to the nearest serving girl for another. "A large army is headed this way.

Kirra swallowed hard, "But from what I hear, they destroy everything."

"Aye."

"So, basically the past fifteen years have been in vain." She said raising her voice slightly in anger and glanced over at Galahad, who was well on his way to getting thoroughly sloshed. She had thought something was amiss. Now that she knew it did seem that the others were more subdued then she would have thought them to be on such a night.

Gawain nodded again and again drained his cup.

Kirra wanted to find out what was going on and knew that Arthur was her only source of information. She had risen with the purpose of finding the commander when Lancelot, who was speaking quietly to Tristan, caught her eye and slowly shook his head at her in warning. Tristan turned to look at her and his dark expression mirrored Lancelot's.

"Oh, for the love," She hissed in exasperated English as she plunked herself down again, immediately regretting the act because her stomach roiled with the abrupt movement.

Gawain looked at Kirra sharply. It was the first time she had used English in a very long time. He noticed for the first time that she was uncharacteristically pale.

She saw his questioning look and sighed, "I have received strict orders that I am not to go anywhere unless I have one of you with me as a personal body guard."

Gawain sat up in interest, "Why?"

"The Bishop's guard paid me a little visit right as I was leaving to come here that I don't think would have gone quite so nicely if Lancelot and Galahad had not shown up right when they did."

Gawain's blue eyes hardened into ice, "And what was the _visit_ about?" He asked fiercely, leaning closer to her.

"Well, according to them, the Bishop wanted me to join him as his_ personal_ guest for dinner tonight."

"You mean you were to be dinner." Gawain guessed in a dangerously soft voice.

Kirra nodded, "More than likely." She reached out to soothe Gawain. Rarely had she seen him so angry and in this situation it frightened her. He was edgy already – like a cat before a big storm, he didn't need to do anything that might get him into trouble so near the end. "It's fine now and over with. There is nothing to worry about. We'll be gone soon and I promised Lancelot not to go anywhere unescorted and I won't so it will be okay."

"Aye," He breathed still unconvinced and stared for a moment at Kirra. There was a great sadness in his eyes along with a frustration she couldn't quite place.

Kirra grinned at him and nudged him playfully with her shoulder, "Come on, this is a happy night. Go get me some food so we can celebrate it on a full stomach."

He gently cupped her face and searched her eyes almost wistfully before getting up to do as she asked. As she was waiting for him to come back, Tristan, having finished his discussion with Lancelot drifted by and sat down.

"I heard about the Saxons," She said not taking her eyes from Gawain's broad back.

"I heard about the Bishop," He countered, proving she had been correct in guessing that was what his conversation with Lancelot had been about.

Laughing lightly, Kirra turned to face her brother and tossed her head haughtily, "I can't help it if everyone wants me. Face it, you have a beautiful sister. I simply do not know how you can stand it."

Kirra's teasing was rewarded with a small smile that disappeared almost as soon as it appeared. "Just be watchful," Tristan said in a low tone.

Kirra sighed with mock annoyance, "Why must _I_ have to be watchful, you know perfectly well that you will not let me out of your sight now until we leave."

Another smile warmed her brother's dark eyes but they sobered instantly as if the light had only been an illusion, "Nevertheless, be careful." He said softly.

"Well, I did it. I finally wore you down." Kirra said putting her arm around him and resting her head on his shoulder. To her surprise and delight he actually put his arm around her waist and gave her a brief squeeze. "See," she sighed contentedly, suddenly exhausted from the up and down emotions of the afternoon. "You do like me."

She sat up when Gawain returned with dinner and Tristan stood to leave. An understanding passed between the two men before Tristan slipped away.

"You two think you're sneaky, but I saw that." Kirra said.

Gawain laughed. It would seem that in the time it had taken him to get Kirra some dinner, his mood had greatly improved. "Vanora just congratulated me." He said in an offhand manner.

Kirra paused as she picked up her spoon, "Why?" she asked distractedly, she was peering at her dinner and trying to figure out what it was. Dinner didn't look all that bad tonight but the smell had her pushing it away. Her actions had Gawain raising his eyebrows, it wasn't often that Kirra turned up her nose at dinner – even if it was something she didn't want to eat.

"Apparently you've deemed it the right time to tell her know our whole story. Everyone knows now." He grinned when she turned to him in surprise.

"She told me she'd keep it under her hat."

"Kirra, you know better than to tell Van anything you don't want spread in a matter of moments." He commented as he took a large bite.

Kirra looked around him and caught Vanora's eye, she frowned as the woman shrugged almost helplessly then grinned at her. Kirra shook her head, "I knew better, but it's so close to the end, I guess we both figured it wouldn't hurt anything. I hope you don't mind."

Gawain shrugged and swallowed a bite, "Doesn't matter, most had some idea that was the way of it."

"We're not very sneaky are we?" Kirra asked with a giggle as she leaned against his shoulder.

"Not in the least." He agreed with a laugh.

--------------------------------

The evening gave away into night with Kirra watching and laughing as the men grew very drunk and played their usual game involving throwing very sharp knives at a very small target. All in all, not a very intelligent thing to do while inebriated.

Unsurprisingly, Tristan won and Bors talked Vanora, who had a rather fine singing voice, into singing a song that Kirra had not heard before but found haunting. It seemed to touch a chord within her and it filled her with a hope she hadn't felt before. The men all knew it and it seemed for a moment to transport them to another place. Their faces grew wistful and hopeful at the same time. The song was interrupted when Jols spotted Arthur hanging back and called to him. At the sight of their commander, Gawain left Kirra to join the others when they congregated around Arthur. Kirra got up to scold Vanora for leaking her secret prematurely when their attention was again focused on the knights.

It seemed an argument of sorts was going on. All seemed instantly sober as if they had not just spent a good part of the night drinking their way through the tavern's many ale barrels. The women could hear nothing of what was said until Bors erupted in rage roaring and Galahad snapped at Tristan. Kirra shared a startled look with Vanora before the older woman had to calm the frightened Eleven as he screamed his fear out. Bors stormed towards them and Kirra skirted the livid man and started towards Gawain in time to hear him agree to something and say that Galahad was in on it, too. Gal responded by smashing a pitcher on the flagstone and stalking away.

Gawain took her arm and was about to pull her away when Arthur called her name. She looked up into Gawain's hard eyes and slipped from his tightening grasp.

"Will you come with us tomorrow?" The commander asked her.

"No!" Gawain snarled and reached for her arm again.

Kirra glared at him then turned to Arthur, "Where?"

"North of the Wall. It would seem that freedom requires one more mission and," Arthur glanced at Gawain's black face, "it seems you will not be safe here."

Kirra's face blanched, ignoring his last statement. It had been directed to Gawain anyway, "North of the Wall? But that's Woad territory." She said unwittingly echoing Galahad's statement.

Arthur nodded sadly, "Yes."

Gawain shook his head vehemently. "No." his voice had not gentled, but grew more quiet and more deadly. "It is enough that we go on this suicide mission, I will not have Kirra go. I forbid it."

Kirra smiled at him gently, "Whoa, caveman. I can't stay here with the Bishop around. How long do you think it would take before he sent for me again? And if none of you are here …" Her voice faded and Gawain finally softened at the fear he saw in her eyes and the knowledge of the truth. He knew the answer to her question and there was no way he would leave her to that fate. He nodded reluctantly and when Kirra turned back to Arthur, her eyes were hard as ice and just as chilling, "I'll go." She said simply and turned to leave as Arthur heaved a sigh of relief.

Gawain glared at his commander a moment before stalking after his wife and Arthur was relieved to see him go. Long years of fighting in near impossible situations led him to know what Gawain was capable of and he recognized the look of his death in the knight's eyes. It would take a long time for Gawain to forgive him for this. He had only a moment to contemplate what Tristan would do as he almost fled to the stables and before Lancelot ambushed him.

-----------------------

"Before you say one word, know it will not change my mind. And short of tying me up and locking me in some storage room, you will not keep me from going." Kirra said to Gawain, once they had reached his room.

"Why?" Gawain nearly exploded. He had never felt such helpless fear in his life. Kirra would go with them, even if she had to wait for someone to dig her out of the deepest pit of Arthur's Hell in order to follow them. It was there in her eyes -- hard, steady grey, brim to overflowing with determination.

Kirra sighed, "Gawain, this is what we were sent back for."

He paced in frustration, "Aye, but not when we both know it is an utter suicide mission. Between the Woads and the Saxons, we are sure to die."

Kirra met his rage calmly, "No, _you_ will not." She said softly, conviction ringing in her tone.

"You cannot be sure of that." He said sitting on the edge of the bed.

Kirra knelt in front of him and took his hands, "It is now more than ever that I am needed. It is because of the nature of _this_ mission I have to go along." She searched his eyes, pleading for understanding. "Somehow I know this is the reason our lives were changed so dramatically. This is what I was brought back for. Please."

Gawain could only shake his head grimly and mutter, "I hope you are right."

"I am. You have nothing to worry about," she said in gentle tones as she rose to stand before him. Gawain couldn't bear to meet her eyes. She was so certain. She placed her cool hands on his face and forced him to look up at her. "Nothing will happen to us. I won't let it. You'll see."

Gawain grabbed her waist and pulled her closer burying his face in her stomach, "I will hold you personally responsible if something does." He murmured roughly against her.


	33. Chapter 33

**#33 North**

Kirra rose early, though she was still more tired than she should have been. An unshakeable fatigue had been plaguing her lately and all she really wanted to do was lay down and go back to sleep. She shrugged the desire off and dressed slowly choosing her clothing with care. It would be a long ride and she wanted clothing more appropriately suited to hard riding then any of her dresses. She chose her more traditional Iazyges dress for the journey.

It consisted of loose pants, over which was worn a long, long-sleeved, wrap around tunic tied closed at the side with high slits for easy movement, with a vest tied over that and a thicker coat as opposed to a cloak, though she stuck hers in her waterproof traveling bag just in case. She wore her most comfortable boots and covered her head with a scarf that she wound about her tightly braided hair.

Gawain woke as she was buckling on her knife belt and checking over the supplies in her bag, but she paid him little mind. She prayed that she had everything that she would need. She debated bringing her bow, but in the end opted to leave it. She was a healer, not a killer and she was severely out of practice.

No words were spoken as Gawain dressed and waited at the door for Kirra to join him. They stopped to grab a hasty meal in the deserted tavern. Kirra forced herself to eat; nervousness was twisting her stomach this morning and making it nearly impossible. They left soon after for the stables. There they found almost everyone already congregated and preparing in various ways.

The men pursed their lips in a disapproving way when they saw Kirra dressed and ready to accompany them, but thankfully said nothing. Galahad stalked in not long after, speaking to no one, and quickly saddled, Rain, his dappled mare.

Rain was fidgeting; sensing the tension in the air and Gal set to work calming the animal and was working out their combined frustration when Arthur entered. Still it remained silent, the mood oppressive, the hostility growing as the Bishop found them, followed by his servant.

Kirra hung out of sight in Jin's stall. She had had all the run-ins with the Bishop and his men that she ever wanted. So she hid and tried to ignore the man's simpering and the feeling of absolute loathing that came off the men in overwhelming waves. She didn't want to be found out and forced to stay behind all because of a inappropriate whim of a Bishop.

Kirra was surprised by the usually reserved Dagonet's sign of fury, when he bumped the Bishop's shoulder with his own, and Arthur's apathy towards his knight's disrespect of such a high church official. It would do well for the Bishop to know who he was dealing with. Should anything happen to anyone on this last mission … well, he should probably start praying to whatever god he actually served, that all of them die. It wouldn't be pretty otherwise and he might just be lucky to make it back to Rome alive and in one piece.

She was tightening Jin's girth strap when she looked over and saw Jols saddling an extra horse. "Who is Torr for?" she asked him with a frown.

"The Bishop has decided to send his henchman with us." Gawain answered for the squire. His jaw was hard and his shoulders tensed more then they had ever been on the start of a mission. He was not handling Kirra's presence well.

"At least I won't be the weakest in the group." She said with a grin, attempting to get her husband to relax and smile.

It didn't work and Gawain stared at her for a moment, "Aye, but we don't care if something happens to him. Each and every one of us would give our life for you."

Kirra sighed and touched his cheek, his jaw hard against her hand, "Please, "she said softly, searching his glittering eyes and running her thumb lightly over his rough skin. "Nothing will happen to me."

Gawain closed his eyes for a moment, praying she was again correct, then opened them and lifted her onto Jin's back. He had just settled himself on Drea when Arthur gave the order to move out.

--------------------------------

The ride was long and almost frantic even before they entered the woods and the Woads began herding them. The men guided their ever more panicking horses away from the traps and vines woven with thorns, hating the fact that they had no room to fight and had to run instead. Kirra tried to stay out of the way. Jin was quite a bit smaller than the larger mounts of the men and Kirra had little desire to be trampled.

It didn't matter; the men were quite aware of her presence and did as much as they could to keep her in the center of the group. Something Kirra would have found quite annoying had adrenaline not been speeding through her veins and her heart pounding with fear. She had a moment of pity for Horton when she caught sight of the horror that bulged his eyes and caused sweat to pour down his face in a torrent. She hoped that she didn't look that terrified, even if she felt it.

She was fairly startled out of the saddle at Gawain's bellow of challenge and could not repress a scowl in his direction as she righted herself. He gave a humorless grin of apology, but stayed near her, shadowing her movements in attempt to keep himself between her and the threatening gloom of the Woad infested forest. Kirra appreciated his tenacity, but knew that if the Woads wanted them dead, it would take a lot more than his body to stop her from being skewered on some horribly sharp point. Strangely, for all the fear, there was only one time, Kirra was sure they would all be killed.

Indeed, one man with a strange symbol tattooed on his forehead and hatred in his eyes stood, bow taut and narrowed on Arthur who sat astride his stallion unmoving and seemingly unafraid of death should the Woad deal it. A horn blew and hung for a moment on the highly charged air, then the man and all the other rebels melted away into the dark, leaving the knights confused and shaken.

"What happened?" Kirra breathed in the suddenly too quiet woods. "Why did they leave?"

"I don't know." Arthur said as he turned and led them from the dark forest, each expecting to be shot in the back. Nothing happened.

The night was shorter than it should have been and all too soon it was red morning and they were again mounted and racing towards their fate.

-------------------------

The Roman's estate was a blessed sight as the small group galloped to its gate and was permitted entrance. Kirra was tired and cranky not to mention saddle sore and starving. She found herself glaring at the little Roman man as he argued pointlessly with Arthur and almost cheered when Arthur asked his wife to get them something to eat. As they waited for food, she looked around and noticed with a grin that she was not the only one with anticipation on her face. She was a bit bewildered, though, when the looks changed to exasperation when Arthur dismounted and stalked towards the small village that served the estate. It would seem the knights were frustrated with their leader.

But as Kirra tracked Arthur's path with her eyes, her blood froze at the sight of an old man slumped against chains that bound him in a standing position. The scared villagers gathered loosely around Arthur as he asked them who the man was and what his crime had been. She had the distinct feeling that the villagers thought that he was going to start hacking them to pieces with his sword at their response. It was a sad thing to watch as they recoiled in fear from the angry commander.

"Kirra," Arthur called as he cut the man down.

Kirra slipped from Jin and jogged over to the old man, ignoring Arthur for her task as he began to lecture the villagers. She helped a few others move the ancient to a dingy little hovel. She asked that the other women build up the small turf fire and bring her some hot water.

The old man had been whipped and, according to his daughter, had been chained, exposed to the elements for two days. He was barely alive, his breath shallow and his heartbeat uneven. Kirra gently touched his forehead. He was grey and unresponsive to her summons. She looked at his daughter compassionately.

"Is your mother still living?" She asked gently as she washed and bound the horrible wounds on the man's back and helped make him as comfortable as possible. It was hard knowing when you were merely helping one to die.

"No lady, Mam died a couple o' years back an' Da ain't been the same since. We was the only thin' keepin' him goin', I thinks." The woman replied softly as she held her father's hand.

Kirra nodded slowly, "I don't think that there is anything I can do for him." Kirra said sadly. "He is not responding to me and I can't feel his presence."

The woman blinked back her tears, "Tha's a' right, lady. He wouldn't want to leave me Mam."

Kirra nodded and embraced the woman, "I do not mean to sound harsh, but after this is over, you need to prepare to accompany us to the wall. Saxons are coming and it is not safe here for you."

The woman's tear filled eyes widened as fear crept in. She looked down at her dying father and Kirra felt relief wash through her -- the young woman was glad her father would not have to endure such a journey. She nodded her thanks to Kirra when Kirra left her alone to say her goodbyes.

As Kirra made her way back to the estate entrance, she was stopped by a worried young mother with an ailing babe in her arms. She examined the baby and strengthened it as much as she dared, all the while hoping Gawain would save her a bit of food. In order to conserve her strength, Kirra healed as normally as possible all who she was able as the men helped to load wagons.

Everything took much longer then was necessary and Kirra tried not to feel angry at the obstinacy of the Romans. Had it been her who had been told that murderous barbarians were coming to kill her and her family, Kirra would have left everything but a horse and been gone within the hour, but the Romans felt the need to take every silken robe and every marble bust. It was maddening and pointless.

She was just finishing giving the mother of a young boy with a sprained wrist instructions on keeping it braced during the journey, when she noticed that the men were starting to mount up. She promised the remaining people that she would see to them when they stopped for the night and hurried to find Jin, warming her cold, chapped hands in her coat as she ran.

It turned out Galahad had Jin. Gawain and a few others had decided to investigate a small brick building that had been haphazardly built onto one of the outer walls of the estate. She looked over at Galahad in question as she pulled herself into the saddle, but the knight just shook his head and turned back to watch the proceedings with a scowl. Tristan was near. He leaned over and handed her some bread and meat. Which she gratefully accepted

"What is going on?" She asked around a rather large mouthful. Not even the sound of the drums beating like the heart of some deranged giant or the ever increasing flow of adrenaline in her blood could appease her hunger. "Do we have time for this?"

Tristan shook his head mutely. His lips were thinned in displeasure and his dark eyes were uneasy.

It was Bors, having overheard her question, who answered her, "Naw. Arthur is out to save the world again -- to the price of us all."

Kirra swallowed her bite as Arthur suddenly rushed from the little hut, calling for water, a young woman, more a girl, in his arms. Dag followed closely with a boy in his own. Kirra nearly choked when Tristan pointed out the girl was Woad. She looked harder and could make out the faded blue marks on the girl's legs.

Kirra reluctantly handed her food back to Tristan and again slid from Jin's back when the girl began to cough and gag on the water Arthur was slowly giving her, but stopped when the pompous little Roman hurried to Arthur and started shouting at him. Kirra started when he suddenly turned on his wife, who had come to help, and viciously backhanded her knocking her to the ground and Arthur punched him.

She backed up to Jin and decided that she would do better to wait until later to see after the girl and the boy. Now was not the time. She pulled herself back into the saddle and watched in shock as Arthur threatened the little Roman and ordered the whining priests to be walled back up in the little building. Several of the estate's guards helped the Roman to his feet and he was all spite and rage, cursing Arthur and promising retribution.

The weather was worsening and the drums were growing louder and Kirra found herself wishing she was very, very far from this place. She shivered at the hatred she heard on the voices of the peasants who threw the priests bodily into the yawning black hole of the hut. Gawain was one who helped them and gladly tossed one of the dirty little clerics back in the dark and Kirra wondered what he had seen in the little building. From the looks of the girl and young boy, it had not been good.

Gawain's forced grin and quick reassuring caress of her knee when he passed on his way to Drea did little to ease the heartache Kirra felt. Though it had been sometime since she had come back, she still found it hard to accept the violence of this life and she longed for the safety of her adoptive parent's home. But she had not the time for tears and she swallowed them back, following behind Gawain as close as Jin would, wishing she were closer.

They traveled as fast as they were able, given the people with them, but it wasn't nearly fast enough and Kirra grew weary of the drums and the feeling of being hunted. She had gotten in the wagon carrying the boy and the Woad girl not long after they had left the estate.

The boy had been burning with fever, had a broken arm and a multitude of bruises to show for his time in, what Kirra learned from a sober Dagonet, had been a torture chamber. Kirra swiftly put an end to the need for the boy's fever and helped Dag to set his arm, taking care once again to use her powers sparingly. Arthur had come in sometime later and Kirra had just about jumped out of her skin when he had pushed the girl's fingers back into place and she screamed. She could not help the disapproving look she gave Arthur as he left. It could have been done in a more comfortable way.

But the biggest surprise of the day came when Kirra heard the girl's name. Guinevere. Dag looked at Kirra in concern when she gasped and jerked to look over at the girl. She quickly focused her attention back on the boy and studiously avoided meeting Dagonet's questioning eyes. The girl lost consciousness soon thereafter and so Kirra was saved from having to make small talk as she carefully examined the girl's hands and ran her skilled fingers lightly over her body to check for anything else that might be amiss. She would speak with the girl later, when she had had some time to come to grips with the new knowledge.

Kirra rode Jin near the wagon until nightfall, keeping her eyes and ears open, saying little. It was growing colder, so she pulled her cloak over her coat and hunched her shoulders as a light rain began to mingle with the snow that had been falling. It was dreary and she found the weather affecting her mood.

Gawain rode with her for awhile, long enough for her to tell him that the girl in the wagon was the woman from her stories.

"You mean the queen?" He asked, stunned.

Kirra nodded wearily and ran a hand over her eyes. She felt like crying, but swallowed it somehow and doubled her efforts to keep Gawain from seeing how exhausted and sick she felt.

"And Lancelot?" He questioned in low tones, watching the knight in question as he conversed with the girl.

"I guess that I will have to watch them." Kirra stated with a sort of detached shrug. Then a smile ghosted her face, "But I didn't tell you to worry you. None of the stories it would seem are true, so this may not be either."

Gawain nodded, though he looked unconvinced.

They settled for the night in a small, but thick grove of trees. Kirra was at once besieged by the serfs who she had not time to see to earlier and she did not return to the warmth of the cooking fires until it was well past dark and a cold fog was rolling in. She dished herself a bit of the stew that hung over the fire and sat with the bowl in her hands, staring dully into the night.

Her cloak was dropped over her shoulders and Gawain seated himself next to her. Finding she was too tired to eat, Kirra placed her bowl on the ground and leaned her head on his shoulder as he wrapped a comforting arm around her. Galahad joined them next, after throwing an armful of wood to the ground.

"Well, how do you like this?" He asked, nearly growling as he sat across from them.

Kirra shrugged, she was weary. The day was taking its toll and all she wanted to do was sleep and forget what she had seen. "They would have been killed had Arthur left them."

Galahad tossed a stick on the fire and scowled, "But they put us in danger."

"That can't be changed." Gawain said and Kirra nodded in agreement.

"What if they were your family members, Gal?" She asked her friend in gentle tones. She knew he wouldn't like the question.

He looked over from the fire and glared, "Mine wouldn't be here."

Kirra sighed. Galahad had every right to be angry. They all did, but anger wouldn't help them – she had learned that long ago. What was done was done. Now they just had to live through it. She was dozing when a noise was heard from the main camp. Galahad jumped to his feet followed by Gawain, who knocked her head in effort to get his arm back. She sighed, got to her feet, and trudged wearily after the men.

Seeing the little Roman holding the boy with a knife to his throat and Dag being used as a punching bag woke Kirra fully and she watched with wide, terrified eyes. It was obvious the knights were afraid to do anything in case they hit the boy and it seemed that the Roman would win this night's battle, until an arrow came whizzing out of the dark.

Kirra turned her head and saw to her astonishment that Guinevere was the one who had fired it. She turned back to the Roman, who lay dying on the ground and dazedly wondered if she should help him. The moment was lost as Bors, mounted on his dark stallion, came to an abrupt halt.

"Do we have a problem?"

The Roman's men immediately backed down. Kirra wanted to laugh, but the feeling was soon erased as Tristan had just returned from a scouting mission and reported that Saxons were very close and they had armor piercing weaponry. Pulling herself together, Kirra ran back to her fire and dipped a bit of the warm stew into a bowl, then hurried back to Tristan. Gawain and Galahad had gone to see to the body of the Roman.

Grim lines marked Tristan's forehead and his lips were set as he took the food Kirra held out to him. He sat on the log and Kirra sat beside him. He was chilled and she could feel the cold radiating from his body. She leaned into him and wrapped an arm around his waist as much to warm him as to derive some measure of comfort for herself.

"Where will we go, Tristan?" she asked quietly.

He swallowed before answering, "To the east, back across their lines. It's the only way I can see getting out of this." He added at the flare of fear he saw in his sister's eyes.

"Do you think we can make it?"

Tristan looked away in contemplation. He wanted to lie and tell Kirra that everything would be all right, that they would make it safely back to the wall. But the truth was he wasn't sure if they would. In fact, he highly doubted it.

Kirra read his silence, "Well, we'll just have to pray for a miracle."

Tristan glanced up and saw Kirra watching him closely, and nodded. She gave him a slight smile. "Is there anything else I can do for you, Tristan, before I go to bed?"

He shook his head, "The stew and your touch were enough. Try not to worry, Kirra."

Kirra got to her feet, brushed a bit of dirt off her clothing and bent to kiss the man on the forehead, "With you around, never. Good-night, brother," She said with a wan grin before finding her blanket and curling up for the night.


	34. Chapter 34

**#34 Ice**

Morning came earlier then Kirra was ready for. A thin crust of snow frosted everything, which would have been quite beautiful had the sound of nearing drums not driven everyone to rush to get ready and leave the night's camp.

Kirra had ridden in the wagon for a short while to check the progress of the boy, but now she rode Jin along the line of peasants. They were silent, out of fear or exhaustion, Kirra couldn't guess. It was probably a combination of both. Many looked up to her with questioning eyes only to receive a small shrug accompanied by a reassuring smile. Few actually stopped and spoke to the healer on the strange horse. So she rode forward after awhile, unable to take the complete silence of so many people.

She had just finished asking Dagonet about the boy and how he was faring when the train stopped.

"What's happening, Kirra?" The knight asked.

"No idea." She answered with a frown. "I'll be back." She noticed the interest the Woad woman was showing at the stop before urging Jin into a trot.

She pulled up beside Lancelot, "Why have we stopped?" she questioned.

"It seems your brother has decided that we are to cross this." The dark knight said bitterly as he swept his arm out in a large arc.

Kirra followed it and saw what she had previously missed, a vast lake completely frozen over with ice. "Tristan wants us to cross _that_?"

Lancelot gave a humorless chuckle.

"But how?" Kirra nearly sputtered. "There are so many people; it's too late in the season. Surely this is madness."

But Arthur followed by Tristan had already stepped out onto the ice.

Lancelot turned his head and gazed at Kirra with a look she had never seen on his face before, "This whole fifteen years has been madness." He said in bleak tones. "Why shouldn't the end be that way too?"

Kirra took his arm and gave him a firm shake, "Stop that! We'll get out of this. Tristan would never lead us somewhere he did not think was passable."

Lancelot squeezed her shoulder, a bit of his old cockiness returning, "Such faith, little sister. Shall we join them?"

Kirra's eyes had still not lost their hard edge, "You go ahead. I need to see if I can help any of the people." The man nodded his jaw hardening as he stepped onto the ice.

Kirra led Jin over the ice, her jaw and shoulders so tense she hurt. She clutched a toddler to her chest, its mother having been all too willing to have another look after one of her young brood of four as they crossed the frozen water. Gawain would glance back over his shoulder at Kirra every few seconds frowning and Kirra was quite sure that he would drug her and chain her to a tree before ever letting her accompany them on another mission. At least she seriously hoped he would. She would happily provide him the proper drugs.

An ominous cracking could be heard as the group made its way slowly across the frozen shelf and caused Kirra to redouble her caution. They were barely half-way across when Arthur turned his horse around to face his men. Kirra listened with heavy heart as they agreed to end the hunt once and for all, and on that god forsaken stretch of frozen ice. As they handed off their horses and began to prepare their weapons, she had just stepped back onto the ice when she heard Gawain.

"Kirra,"

Kirra raised and eyebrow at the unusually sharp tone he had used, "Yes?"

He pinned her with a glittering blue stare, "Get off this ice."

She folded her arms across her chest and fought the shiver of fear that particular look caused to dance down her spine, "I think not." She retorted and then glared at Tristan in warning because he had chosen that moment to look at her. He gazed at her unperturbed then dropped his eyes and returned to examining his bowstring.

Gawain advanced.

"I am not leaving." Kirra reiterated stubbornly, "And you don't have time to carry me off, so get used to it. I'll stay back here, but I refuse to leave."

Gawain sighed in defeat then brushed an icy hand gently over her cheek. He nodded in acceptance, "Fine, but should we fall, you run. Do I have your word?"

Kirra nodded soberly, knowing that should they fall, she would not run. The bleakness in Gawain's eyes led her to believe he knew it too. She rose up and pressed a kiss to his cold lips then was gone back out of the way, among an outcropping of rocks. Gawain turned with heavy heart to the task in front of him and forced himself to forget the woman standing so still and silent behind him. The one he had to protect at all cost.

As Kirra watched the men empty their quivers, she prayed the entire time that the ice would break. She unknowingly twisted a hank of her tunic in her hands and was surprised later to find a small tear in the thick fabric. It was one she never mended. Unable to help herself, her heart leaping to her throat, she darted forward as soon as she saw Dagonet drop his bow and take up his axe, knowing what he was thinking before he had actually run across the ice and towards the advancing horde.

Gawain barely caught her and pulled her back before she went streaking after the man. She fought for a moment, seeing nothing but death and hit him once with a blow that made his eyes water before she came to her senses. Then she stood glaring and frustrated as he and the others emptied their quivers in defense of their friend, ignoring the screaming of the drowning Saxons and the horrific screeching of the ice as it tore away from the main body in large chunks. She cursed the fact that she had left her own bow at home. Her heart nearly stopped when Arthur, in attempt to keep his man alive, raced across the ice and pulled Dag from the cold embrace of the frozen lake.

As soon as Arthur was close enough and it was certain that the shattering ice would not reach them, Kirra ran forward and pushed the men out of the way. She was more frantic then anyone had seen her. Her usually calm demeanor was replaced with urgency as she ripped the arrows out one by one and commanded all blood flow cease with a single ringing word. She startled them all when she leaned over Dag and placed her mouth over his, blowing warm air into his lungs.

"Breathe, damn you, breathe," She swore once as she came up for air and, using her whole weight, begin to firmly press on the still man's chest, tears poured down her cheeks freezing into sparkling diamonds when they hit the ice.

She stopped after a bit and looked into the man's unblinking eyes, calling his name and waiting for a flicker of something, anything, that would present itself.

"Come on, Dag." There was a stirring of the air near her that had nothing to do with the breeze. Kirra looked up at it for a moment. "We can't lose you, not now." She said desperately, seeking for something that would make the man stay. Her eyes darted frantically and in her mind she could see the face of the boy he had rescued.

Kirra leaned forward so that she could whisper into her friend's ear, "Dag, Lucan needs you. He has no one. Guinevere told me his family was all killed for their defiance of the Roman. He trusts you and wants you to come back. Come back, for him, for us."

As she pulled away, the man took a great shuddering breath and Bors helped her to roll him to his side so that he could safely expel the cold, dark water that was in his lungs. He coughed and gagged the whole while trembling violently from his dip in the freezing water.

"He needs dry clothing." Kirra said, whipping her head around and wiping her face as she turned to Galahad, "Could you have the wagon return?" The youngest knight left without a second thought and returned quickly on Rain with dry blankets clutched in his arms.

"The wagon's on its way." He informed them.

Kirra was just finishing binding Dag's wounds when the creaking of a wagon would be heard. She smiled down at the shivering man, "We're almost home, Dag. Get some sleep." He nodded and immediately closed his eyes at her order.


	35. Chapter 35

**#35 Freedom**

The men were silent as they entered the great wall for the last time. Kirra was so weary, that she swayed in the saddle. She felt as if she had lived twenty lifetimes in the few days they had been away. Her eyes were red-rimmed and hard as she pulled Jin to a stop in the stable, her cheeks were pale and stiff with salt from the tears she had cried. As she slid from her saddle, she could barely contain the hatred in her dark eyes as the Bishop came forward to greet the boy so many had risked their lives to save. He stumbled over his words at the boy's silent avoidance of him and tried to be brave in the face of so many grave and furious warriors.

"You are free." He announced with a flourish, that was lost on his small, hostile audience, as he opened the wooden box that contained their papers.

Kirra watched dispassionately as Lancelot took two and handed them to a furious Bors. The man took them and turned to the Bishop as the boy, Lucan, darted past. She turned her cold glance on the Romans who moved to stop the boy but were halted by Galahad's blade as Lucan wove in and out of the men searching for the giant warrior he did not fear. Kirra took his hand and after one last quelling glance at the Bishop led the boy to the last wagon. The boy bolted inside and found what he was looking for, alive, but weak and pale. Kirra left them to their relieved greetings.

"I will never know how you do what you do, Kirra." Gawain said softly once they had reached their room.

Kirra sighed heavily, "There is a price to pay for it, though. I am exhausted." She sunk into a chair and watched as Gawain lit a fire. "I almost lost him." She said staring dully into the flames. "I could feel him there and hovering, but he was so unsure about whether he wanted to return or not. It was very precarious, until I mentioned the boy." She looked over at Gawain. "They will be good for each other."

"The separation will be all the more hard when we find the boy's family." Gawain said crouching by the new flames.

Kirra leaned her head back, "He has no family and even if he did, he would choose Dag over them."

Gawain frowned at the conviction in her voice, "We are leaving in the morning."

Kirra shrugged. She knew things and Dag and Lucan was only one thing she knew. Let Gawain believe what he would, she was too tired to get into it tonight. "What is home like?" She asked, changing the subject.

"I do not really remember." Gawain answered. "But, does it matter? We will be free to come and go as we choose."

Kirra pondered for a moment watching as the flames licked hungrily at the wood Gawain had thrown on. "I am hungry and want a bath." She said suddenly and stood.

Gawain grinned wickedly, "I think I can help with that."

"Get your mind out of the gutter." Kirra said with a laugh and pushed ineffectively at him when he gathered her in his arms. Her eyes grew soft as she gently touched the bruise she had given him and whispered a few words to lessen the violent shade of purple. She grinned at his astonished expression. Even after all this time and after the many times Kirra had done that, Gawain was still in awe of the power she held.

"Okay," Kirra said wriggling from Gawain's grasp, "You are not allowed to start anything until I have eaten and bathed, that's the rule. I smell like horse and sweat. Come to think of it," Kirra wrinkled her nose, "so do you."

"I told you that I could help with your bath. You wash my back, I'll wash yours …" He said, playfully interjecting a tone of hopefulness in his words as he opened the door and they left for the tavern.

Kirra threw back her head, exposing her slender neck, and laughed gaily, her good mood returning at the thought of dinner and warm water. "Maybe, but I need to eat first." She looked Gawain up and down thoughtfully. His blood heated immediately at her scrutiny, "I once heard of Tristan licking blood from his hands after a battle -- totally disgusted me, but when I thought about it, I wondered if human would be so bad. I would really hate to have to experiment on you."

Gawain's face fell, "That is disturbing, Kirra, and makes me think I married into the wrong family." But he remembered his earlier thoughts at the sight of Kirra's slim, white neck and grinned.

"You knew better than I what I was when you asked," Kirra said giving him a little shove with her shoulder, "And may I remind you what a horrid proposal it was."

Gawain sighed, "Are you ever going to forget that?"

Kirra's brow creased as she thought, "Uh, no. It's something to hold over your head for the rest of your life and I plan to use it to my advantage every chance I get." She smiled mischievously.

They were about to sit down when Galahad found them. Something in his eyes caused both Kirra and Gawain to be on alert. He looked haunted and pale.

"What it is?" Kirra asked grasping his arm gently; she could feel his fear and rage humming.

"Come to the wall and see," He said shortly and turned on his heel to leave the way he came.

Kirra exchanged a look with Gawain and followed him as he quickly strode after his friend. Kirra took the stairs two at a time, panting a little when she reached the top, but her breath caught in her throat when she peered over the balustrade.

Before them, spread throughout the valley was the Saxon army. Kirra watched horrified as more flowed in. She shrank back until she hit the back of the high wall and then stood with her hand against her mouth. This couldn't be happening. She hadn't thought they would be leaving, but she had no clue it was because of this.

She watched as Arthur looked over the side at the same scene she had seen. His look was no less troubled, but underneath was steel. Kirra took heart in it, though she could not fathom how they were going to get out of this one. Even with her talents, there were simply too many Saxons and despite what the men believed, she was not all powerful and she could not be in more than one place at a time.

She listened in silent horror as Arthur bid farewell to his men, then left to prepare. For what, Kirra was unsure. His odds, alone, were not good. One man against an army? Was he crazy not to expect some help?

She slept fitfully that night, after having forced something down her throat and resigning herself to a simple bath from a bucket. Not even Gawain's usually comforting presence could calm her or stop disturbing dreams from resurfacing each and every time she closed her eyes.

After realizing that sleep was an impossibility, she finally rose to make sure she had everything. It was still many hours before the sun would show his face. She stood for a long time, soaking in the dim light from the moon, thinking, wondering how they would escape. Wondering if they were even right to attempt it, knowing they would not get far.

"We'll be far from here in a few hours." Gawain said surprising her. She had thought him asleep.

"Will we?" She asked distractedly. "Somehow I don't think so."

"Come," he said, yawning and drawing the blankets aside, "Even if you can't sleep, come and lay beside me. Let me feel you next to me."

Kirra returned to the bed and lay down. As she had so long ago in a dark forest with a storm approaching, she placed one hand against her husband's steadily beating heart. He was warm and solid, a reminder that he would be hers forever. She took instant comfort in the thought and remembered the promise Niara had made. It made her feel better and when Gawain pressed a sleepy kiss to her forehead and pulled her closer, wrapping his large body around her smaller one, Kirra relaxed against him and both fell asleep.

-------------------------

The morning was chaotic. People were running in all directions, some trying to get the things they would need to escape the inevitable invasion and some attempting to prepare for it. Weapons were laid out and the sound of metal on stone let Kirra know they were being sharpened. Tar was being poured into shallow trenches and Kirra wondered what Arthur had planned for the Saxons. She glimpsed him only for a second, striding about and giving orders, before she had to turn her attention to something else.

She watched her countrymen. They moved slowly as if they wanted to be doing things other than packing the few small wagons that were to accompany them on their trip back home. Though nothing was voiced, Kirra had an idea that they weren't so keen on leaving their commander to fight this battle on his own – no matter what they said aloud. Their faces were strained and lined and it didn't look as though many of them got much sleep.

"All right, Kirra?"

Kirra turned realizing that she had been standing utterly still amidst a mass of constantly swirling people and saw Vanora. She held her youngest on her hip and looked as all did, as though her night had been all too short. Her eyes were crinkled in concern as she watched her young friend.

"Yes, I think." Kirra said, sounding quite unsure of her answer. She took a deep breath, "How can we leave him to it?"

Vanora looked at Kirra's haunted expression then back at her cart full of children. She knew what Kirra was feeling, but had more important people to worry about than Arthur.

"Oh, never mind." Kirra said at Vanora's pause. "I didn't get much sleep last night. Can I help you with anything? We got our things loaded earlier this morning," she laughed and it sounded strained and foreign in her own ears, "there wasn't much."

Vanora shook her head, "We're ready, too. I hope. You two stop that!" She suddenly yelled at a set of her twins who were shooting little rocks at each other with what looked to be sling-shots of sorts. "Oh, those two. The beginnin' of a trip and they have to start with that. 'Scuse me, will ya, Kirra?" Kirra nodded and the woman stormed toward her unruly children, who cowered at her approach. At least some things had not changed so much.

At that moment Gawain appeared leading Drea and Fate, who was saddled and ready for Kirra. Jin was again being used as a pack horse and because of the excitement in the air, Finn had been tied to the back of the bastards' cart, so that he could not escape and cause added havoc.

"You have everything you need from your House?" Gawain asked gravely as he handed Kirra's reins to her.

"Yes." She replied, then looked up at him, "Do you think we're doing the right thing?"

Gawain studied the cold ground for a moment before answering her, "I don't know, but right now, you are the most important thing to me. It is not safe here and I have to get you as far from here as I can."

"But, he's alone, Gawain." She said and her voice broke.

Gawain's eyes were fierce when he met Kirra's, "There are others here."

"I know." She said as she pulled herself astride Fate, "It's just …" She wiped at her eyes.

Gawain placed a hand on her knee, "I know, Kirra. I know."

They had not gotten very far when the men's mounts started acting up. The sound of the drums and the scent of the smoke in the air, not to mention the unease they felt coming from their masters, set them to dancing and pulling at their bits. The men whispered words to calm them, but as they raised their heads and saw a lone shadow through the smoke, they knew they there were a few things left unfinished.

It took only moments for the men to pull on their armor on and retrieve their weapons and with soft words of parting, they left their loved ones for one final battle.


	36. Chapter 36

**Okay, I simply could not resist. I couldn't leave you all hanging like I did and I think these are two of my best chapters. **

**Enjoy!**

**#36 Dreams and Reality**

"No!" Kirra cried to no one in particular and guided Fate down the hill towards the battle, not caring if anyone was in her way or not. She had been unable to hang back as Vanora did with her brood. She had to see what was going on and because she was so far away, that was nearly impossible. She fought to keep track of the men on horseback, but all too soon they had been pulled form their mounts and were lost to sight amidst a scrambling press of bodies. She ground her teeth and urged more speed from the black mare.

Fate pulled at the bit and fought for her head. There was too much smoke and blood on the air for her to be comfortable, but Kirra was relentless. She had spotted Tristan and the Saxon leader eyeing one another as she had neared the battle field. In her heart she knew the man was not for Tristan but her brother was too far away and too stubborn to listen, even if she had been able to somehow have told him.

She slipped from Fate's back when it was clear the mare could go no further and sprinted lightly towards her brother, dodging combatants and the fallen, ignoring their calls and praying with each breath that she would make it in time. She placed her slender body between that of her brother and that of the Saxon in the few seconds the Saxon examined their father's sword. She knew if given the chance he would use it to end Tristan's life.

Cerdic looked up from the blood stained blade and regarded her with amusement -- a lone, unarmed woman standing between him and his prey. It was too bad that she was not of his race as she was a rare beauty.

Kirra stood unwavering as her death drew near. She had only her small silver dagger to use to defend herself or her brother -- which would do precious little against a sword, the power bestowed upon her by the goddess and Fates, and she had her anger, fed by her brother's obstinacy and the unmerciful glint in the Saxon leader's eye. She hoped that would be enough for a miracle.

"I refuse to let you kill my brother with our father's sword." She spat at the advancing man then raised her arms to the heavens and murmured words that hung on the air like the smoke.

They were as mysterious and dark as she and the Saxon stopped for a breath of time. The wind picked up and tore the Kirra's hair free of its restraints. It blew about her face, hiding all but her strange eyes which darkened suddenly giving her the appearance of a demon. Her gown whipped around her legs and as she lowered her arms a warrior appeared in front of her.

His countenance was terrifying and it was all the Saxon could do to hold his ground and not to recoil from him. If the woman was a demon then this man, this ghost, was the very devil himself. Tall and strong, he was dressed for battle in dark armor that looked almost slick with blood. His eyes were black as the woman's, emphasized by the pale flesh of his face. The razored edges of his weapons and armor alike glimmered with an unearthly light. Short fair hair was tied back at the nape of his neck. Crossing his arms over his strong chest he stared unblinking at the approaching Saxon and slowly shook his head back and forth, warning the man.

Together the woman and her apparition appeared as the goddess of death, Hel, and her collaborator, Tyr, the god of war.

Cerdic growled and taking a deep breath swung his opponent's sword at the figure. His eyes widened when it passed unhampered through the man. When it connected with the vapor, a surge of energy flowed through his body and the sword dropped from numbed fingers. He heard a low taunting laugh in his head that caused the hair to stand up on the back of his neck and for perhaps the first time in his life, he knew fear, dark and thick, writhing with a life of its own. He ground his teeth and refused to give in to the terror, but somehow he knew the devil knew of it.

Realizing he would not win against the shadow warrior, he snarled and marked the woman as his. She may not be of his race, but surely a witch such as she would never thin his mighty blood with her own, she could only enrich it. He would have her. He vowed that he would return as the devil warrior watched him with cold eyes that dared him to return.

Kirra was shocked to see a hazy form appear between her and the Saxon. It looked like a warrior from the back, but she was unable to tell for sure, but whatever it was, was protecting her from the oncoming man and the rest of the horde. When the ghost turned and grinned at her and she caught sight of a wicked dimple, she knew him. It was Gareth. He said not a word, but in her heart she knew that he had been sent to help her on this leg of her journey. Perhaps that is why he had chosen not to follow her that fateful day so long ago, but rather go to his ancestors. He nodded as if he could read her thoughts and his smile widened mischievously. Kirra raised her hand in a brief salute then returned to her task.

Tristan was gasping in agony. There was so much blood that for a few seconds, Kirra was unsure that she would be able to help him. She ground her teeth at the pain that threatened to overtake her. She would not lose her only remaining family this way. He would not die, she wouldn't allow it.

"Oh, you stupid, stubborn man," She commented gently as she cut clothing free to better examine his wounds.

Tristan shivered uncontrollably at her touch and Kirra knew that he didn't have long. She could actually hear his heart stuttering to a stop and she watched in horror as his chest rose and fell one last time.

"No." She murmured and got up only to kneel at his head. Ignoring the blood staining it, she laid her forehead on his, squeezed her eyes shut, and with a prayer to the goddess, called his name. The markings on her shoulder and wrist burned with power, threatening to engulf her in flames.

Immediately it was cool and she found herself standing on a flat grassland. The silvery-green grass stretched for as far as she could see in every direction. The sky was as bright and blue as any she could remember having seen before and Kirra felt the familiar feeling in her heart of coming home. A wind blew softly tossing her hair. It smelled of grass and water.

Kirra didn't know where she was. Usually she had always followed those that were dying to a dark forest that had a warm, beckoning light at the end of it. Like the one she had been in with Gareth. Here she was somewhere definite. Was it a memory? Had she done something wrong? Never before had she ever _stood_ in another's memory, for surely she didn't remember to the place and it must be Tristan's doing. Always she had been on the outside, listening and seeing only vivid colors as they swirled and passed around her. Now everything was completely still.

A small smokeless fire was lit in front of her and something glimmered in the sunlight and caught her eye. Beside the fire was a large, shallow stone bowl full to the brim with still water. It didn't ripple when the wind rushed over it; it only laid motionless and beckoning, still and reflective as a mirror.

A thunder of hoof beats tore Kirra's attention from the water. She shoved a lock of dark hair from her eyes as a boy, not yet a man, galloped furiously passed where she stood. Their eyes met for one brief second and Kirra knew the boy to be Tristan.

She knelt by the edge of the bowl of water as he pulled the foaming beast to a sharp stop and turned back to her. When he reached her, he jumped off the dark horse and approached her cautiously.

"Are you a ghost?" He asked his eyes wide and full of wonder.

How strange it was to be in her homeland with this younger version of her brother. She could see in him the man he would become, but she could feel his vulnerability and innocence, two things she had never seen in the Tristan she knew. He was wild and dark and taller then she, even at his young age. Kirra smiled. "I don't believe so. Why?"

"You look like my mother, except for your eyes."

Not remembering their mother, Kirra was curious, "And how are they different?"

"My mother's are dark, but yours are grey. Silver in this light. Are you my grandmother?" He asked, eyeing Kirra speculatively.

"No, not her," Kirra giggled and watched him. "Are you sure you don't know me?"

"No. What is that?" The young Tristan pointed to the water, Kirra had been studying. Kirra smiled at his curiosity, at least that hadn't changed.

"It's a scrying pool. It is used to see the future." She explained pushing back and allowing him room to see.

Tristan approached gingerly and peeked into the water, strangely it reflected only the woman's face, and not his own. He backed away feeling foolish that he would allow himself to be taken in by a woman and her foolish stories. He had more important things to attend to this day and he was wasting time.

"I see nothing and I have to go. Now." He made as if to mount his horse.

"Where are you going?" The woman's question was soft, gentle, and it unsettled the boy.

His brows knit, "That is none of your concern."

"I see. Are you always this rude to your relatives?"

He threw back his head at her calm question, nostrils flaring like a startled horse's, "You? I don't know you. How is it you are here in this place, when you were not earlier when I came through?"

"Why did you come through earlier?"

He was agitated and wanting to leave, but Kirra couldn't let him. In the back of her mind she could feel the battle raging around her. She could feel Gareth's urgent tugging. She needed to return and soon to the older Tristan. But before she did, it was imperative that his younger counterpart look in the water and recognize something.

"I had to fetch the midwife for my mother. She has been laboring long and the midwife from our tribe died this winter past." He could not believe he was telling the witch all of this. She must have cast a spell on him. Could she use him to hurt his mother or the child she was about to bring into the world?

Suddenly everything became clear to Kirra. The flashes of fire, the glimmers of water, of dark curls not her own, her pounding heart. This was the unremembered dream and it wasn't a dream. It had _been_. She had come to her brother in the moments before her birth and it was fear that had made her heart pound. Fear that she might lose him even as she spoke to him.

She looked up at the boy, her eyes darkening and piercing his soul, "Your mother and sister will be fine, Tristan." She said.

The boy stepped towards her, hand straying to his dagger, his posture aggressive in order to mask the alarm he felt at her knowledge, "How do you know my name?"

"Put your fear and anger aside," she smiled as if at some private joke, "both are wasted emotions. I was sent from the goddess to you. Come, sit here beside me and tell me what your future holds."

Tristan's aggression left and he hesitantly seated himself beside her, but his eyes told Kirra that he felt more compelled than anything.

"I told you I see nothing," He said after peering into the water for a few moments.

"You are not willing to see. Look," She gently touched his shoulder.

The boy bent over the bowl and it rippled and calmed. In the calm he saw faces, faces he felt he should know; familiar faces. They passed before him so rapidly he was surprised he saw them at all. He blinked and glanced at the woman beside him when her face appeared briefly. Kirra smiled and nodded. It was her memory also so she could see what he saw.

"Do you know them?" she asked gently.

"I am not sure, I feel as if I should, but it is cloudy, like a dream."

The woman cupped his face in cool hands, hands like his mother's and turned his face to hers, "Think hard, Tristan. They need you, but you cannot return unless you know them."

He looked back at the water and searched his memory until sharp pains stabbed at his brain, but nothing came. He slowly shook his head and stood to rise. The woman smiled sadly and rose with him. She stayed at the side of the bowl when he turned to leave, confusion replacing anger as he replayed the faces of the people in the water over and over. Suddenly a light dawned and he turned back to the woman. She was bending to empty the water from the bowl.

"Wait," He called urgently. She stopped and looked hopefully at him. Tears were glimmering in her eyes.

"I know … I remember … I am not sure if it a memory or a dream."

"The two are sometimes inseparable. It is enough that you remember them. Would you join them, in their fate?"

Tristan instinctively felt the importance of the question and knew his survival hinged on the answer. One that, once given, would somehow decide what he would do and where he would go after. He paused and searched his heart. He had felt -- for an instant only, the feeling of intense brotherhood, belonging, and loyalty. He looked into the warm grey eyes of the woman and nodded fiercely. Yes, he would join the men he had seen in their fate.

"Good, now you must go, for your sister will be here shortly and I have things yet to do before this day is through."

Even as she spoke the words, Kirra felt a nagging at the back of her mind. It was as if she had left something undone. In a flash of inspiration she understood. She stopped Tristan once again, "But before you go, there is something that the goddess would like you to have. Come lay before my fire, brother."

If he was surprised at her calling him brother, Tristan didn't show it. Instead he obeyed, his large dark eyes suddenly trusting. Kirra smiled and touched his face, tracing a pattern on his high cheekbones. She looked into his eyes, made sleepy and drooping by her soothing ministrations, "I wondered what these marks meant since the day we were reunited but never knew it was I who put them there." She brought her hands away and in their stead were the fine dark marks he would carry for the remainder of his days.

Kirra leaned closer and whispered in Tristan's ear, "They are the marks of a Traveler, destined to live apart and alone, until one comes to end his loneliness. Both blessing and curse. You cannot leave this world until you find her, brother, else you and she be alone and apart for all eternity."

She pressed a kiss to his temple and the picture of a soft, beautiful, fair woman filled their collective mind. Brother and sister watched as the she lifted a slender, white arm to Tristan in longing then faded into nothingness. The boy's heart leapt in his chest and he turned his head to look into the eyes of his sister. She rose to leave, but he had no such inclination. He felt calm and warmed by her and by the promise of love he had seen in the beautiful eyes of the fair woman. The urgency of his mother's condition felt far away.

"What is your name, sister?" he asked with a thick, tired tongue, for now he understood who she was.

She stooped and tenderly brushed his unruly hair back from his forehead, "You will call me Kirra. Now sleep for a time and then return quickly to our mother. I will wait for you and there will be another who comes to help. You can trust her."

"You are sure the babe is you?" Tristan asked unable to keep his eyes open a moment longer.

Kirra laughed and turned her silver eyes back on his one last time before disappearing behind the rocks.

"I know so. Farewell, brother." She raised a hand, "'Til we meet again." and she disappeared into the black.

---------------------------

Kirra came to herself quickly. When she looked down, she saw that Tristan's eyes were opened and fixed on her. He looked like death, but was alive and breathing, however painful it was for him.

"You," He whispered, thickly and a thin ribbon of blood trickled from the side of his mouth. "All this time I thought it a dream, but it was in truth memory."

"Shhh," Kirra crooned and pushed the dark locks away from his grey face and mopped the blood away with the hem of her tunic, "As I said sometimes the two are inseparable. We will discuss this later. I am going to have to make you sleep. You won't feel any pain. Do you trust me to do this and heal you and bring you back?"

After what he had just seen Tristan would trust his sister to do anything. He swallowed convulsively and, too weak to speak further, gave a slight nod. Kirra kissed his forehead again and whispered, "I will be here when you wake." Then she began the chant that would send him to the deep painless oblivion he needed to be in to heal.

When he was safely asleep she looked around in panic, her bag with all of her herbs and tools was on the wagon. In her panic she had forgotten it. It would take precious time, time she didn't have, to fetch the bag and return. Why hadn't she thought ahead?

She heard a low chuckle and looked up. Gareth was still guarding her and he gestured for her to look down. There beside her was the scrying bowl. It still held fresh water full to the brim. Gratefully she whispered her thanks to him and reached for the bowl. Wrapping her hands around it as far as they would stretch, Kirra infused the water with her living energy and the power of the moon until it glowed silver.

She turned to her fallen brother and cut the rest of the clothes from his upper body. The great, slashing wounds were extensive and many. She again cursed herself that she had forgotten her bag, but if she could stop the bleeding and get the wounds cleaned and half healed, she could sew them up later.

Having decided her course of action she began at once to stop the bleeding with the pressure of her hands and the lulling chants Niara had taught her. She opened her dress and tore a strip of her under shirt to use as a rag. It was the cleanest thing she had out on the muddy, blood spattered field and it would have to do. Dipping it in the water, she would smooth it over the wounds and press down at the same time in order to staunch the flow of blood and promote heeling.

Kirra worked quicker then she ever had before, but was just as meticulous; the whole of the operation taking mere minutes. When she had done all that she could, given place and lack of supplies. She sat back on her heels and wiped wearily at her head. Sinking into their combined memory and then using her talents to keep Tristan bound to her and force his body to heal so quickly, drained her. She felt woozy and swayed even as she sat. She wanted to close her eyes and sleep for a very long time.

At her thought, Kirra felt a feather-light touch on her shoulder. She turned her dazed eyes upward and recognized Gareth, he was still with her. At his gentle touch, she felt a rush of energy even as he began to fade from her view. He motioned to Tristan's motionless body and Kirra knew that she had to bring her brother back before he got too comfortable in the dark and refused to come at all.

Kirra smiled and addressed the fading warrior, "Thank you my friend, for all that you have done. Go now, rest. We will be with you soon. Trust me to care for Tristan and the others."

Satisfied, Gareth allowed himself to fade completely away. But before he left, Kirra could have sworn that she felt warm lips brush her cheek and she was wrapped in the haunting sound of a warm boyish chuckle.

She smiled as she used the last of the water in the bowl to clean Tristan's face. As she did so, she called to him in a low, persuasive voice and it was not long before he responded and opened his eyes.

Kirra could still read pain there, but his breathing was easier and his heartbeat was strong and sure. He gripped her hand tightly. Hearing a sound to her right, Kirra looked up to see Bors making his way towards them. The battle was all but over and somehow they had triumphed.

The big man was limping and favoring his right side. Blood fell from a few small head wounds, but he would be fine. Kirra would see to that. He stood beside her waiting for Tristan to relinquish his hold on the healer's hand. His eyes were darkened in sorrow.

Kirra squeezed her brother's hand and he released her. She rose gracefully, so full of a radiant power that her whole being shone. She touched the big man's arm and at once he felt his pain ease.

"What is it Bors?"

He looked across the field for once unable to speak and Kirra followed his gaze. She could make just make out Arthur sitting at the side of a fallen man and Guinevere sitting at his head. Arthur was distraught and looking into the sky for something, anything. It could mean only one thing; that his closest friend and brother, Lancelot, had fallen.

She spared not a glance at Bors, but vowed, "That will not be." And she left to make her way across the field to the commander.


	37. Chapter 37

**#37 Decisions**

Kirra shimmered in the afternoon light, small flames of silver and blue danced through her hair as she made her way to where Guinevere knelt at Lancelot's head. Guinevere could feel the power radiating from her in waves and Arthur moved back as Kirra knelt at the side of the fallen knight. She looked him over carefully, her eyes darkening in despair when she felt nothing of him, not even the smallest spark of who he had been.

_No, this cannot be. I came to help them and one is gone. I cannot let this happen. Not this time. _

She grasped the bolt in his chest and slowly pulled it out. When it did not bleed, Kirra knew he was gone; she had spent too much time with Tristan. She took an angry breath and ground her teeth; she could not -- would not -- accept Lancelot's death. It was for this reason that she had been saved and came back, traversing time and space, losing all she had known and loved twice over.

Kirra looked at Arthur. His eyes were bleak and full of guilt and grief. He felt that it was his fault his friend and lieutenant was dead, killed far from his homeland on a cold and uncaring island in a battle that was not his.

Kirra balled her bloody hands into tight fists, why had she been forced to choose one life over another's? Had she chosen right? Arthur loved all his men, but this one was special, this was his brother. Kirra knew the grief of losing a brother; she had felt it only moments ago. How could Arthur become who he was born to be without the help of all of these men? Without is best and closest friend there to offer advice? Kirra understood in that moment that only with _all_ of them, the last and the strongest of his knights, could Arthur hope to bring Britain together and hold it.

Pulling out her small silver knife, Kirra cut through Lancelot's armor as she had done with Tristan's. It easily split the metal as if it were nothing but thin cloth. She pulled it away and placed her hand on the hole over his heart. There was very little blood. She sat back on her knees and closed her eyes. Everything around her stopped and for a time she heard nothing but the drum of her heart beating. She felt nothing except the tiny almost imperceptible throb of life inside her womb. A life, until now she hadn't realized she carried. It was like the flickering glow of a single candle, shining bright with hope through the darkest night. In that flicker, the goddess again spoke to Kirra.

She opened her eyes, trembling, suddenly filled with the knowledge of what to do. Could she do it and live with herself? She looked up at Gawain, standing beside her bloodied and wounded, would he forgive her? He met her eyes steadily, shocked by the emptiness he saw there, frightened by the shadow that passed over her and the sudden all encompassing grief that touched her. Kirra looked nothing like herself and he couldn't understand the sorrow and despair he saw in her. He bent to touch her. "No." The word was harsh, twisted, and she turned from him, her heart breaking. She knew what must be done. There was no other choice.

She dropped her little knife and placed her free hand on her belly between the two crescent moons, she closed her eyes again, sealing out the sight of Gawain and the other gathered knights.

She opened her eyes to the sound of happy laughter and found herself standing on a hill, in yet another strange place. Down at the bowl of the valley she saw two children playing together.

Two little boys laughed as they chased one another, one of the boys, dark as the night, the other bright as the day and Kirra knew instinctively who they were. Her sons. Two sides of one coin. Fighter and healer. They saw her and stopped in their joyful play to wave. Kirra started down to join them, but paused when she saw a man walking toward the children. He was tall and dark. Rich, dark, heart-blood still ran from a hole in his bare chest. It was Lancelot.

Kirra's heart stuttered as he watched her children. The dark one regarded the man silently while the fair haired boy approached him. The man knelt in front of the child. "You are hurt," She heard the boy tell man in a pure voice.

Lancelot frowned and looked at his chest in confusion, "I did not know." He touched the blood on his chest and glanced up to where Kirra stood frozen, hot tears gushing down her cheeks. The little boy placed his small hands on Lancelot's face causing him to turn and look back at him.

"I can help you."

Kirra struggled to move, to call out, but found she could not. Her decision had been made; now it was another's. It was then she realized that all souls were given the ability to choose what they wanted even before their birth into the world. It was the best of the gifts of the goddess, but the knowledge did little to fill the gaping hole in Kirra's heart.

Kirra sensed a comforting presence near her, but didn't look to see who it was; her gaze was fixed on the scene in front of her.

The child reached out his small hands and covered the wound in Lancelot's chest. When he next spoke Kirra heard ancient words spoken as loud as the thunder, soft as a whisper. They fell heavy and dark, like poison on her mother's heart. A great wind whipped around her, tossing her long hair and tearing at her clothing, and she felt herself torn in two, agony ripping at her very soul. Watching Tristan almost cut down by the Saxon had been nothing next to this feeling.

A brilliant flash of white light caused Kirra to throw a hand up to shield her eyes. When she brought it down Lancelot was standing in front of her, tears fell unceasing from his eyes, as he cradled her little son to his undamaged chest. The only indication of injury was a new scar directly over his heart. It was one that he would carry always to remind him of the sacrifice of a mother and her child.

Kirra fingered her son's bright curls and brushed a kiss across his temple. She took him from the weeping knight. Her little son was so light, so small, so perfect, so beautiful. She turned to Niara, who had been by her side the entire time. Niara smiled sadly, her eyes full of compassion and love. She said nothing, as words would have meant nothing, only touched Kirra's cheek before taking her son from her and turning away.

Kirra watched numbly as Niara and her son vanished. She stood staring blankly into the distance for a long time. When she finally turned to Lancelot; she pressed a cold hand to his chest and felt the faint beating of his heart. He said nothing, but stood silently, tears dripping from his face to fall on her. Kirra raised her eyes to his and choking, called his name aloud.

Behind them a single child returned to his play, alone.

Kirra opened her eyes to Lancelot's stunned ones. It was the same scene as before played over only this time Kirra had not the strength to fight the pain. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she crumpled and would have hit the ground had Gawain not somehow caught and lifted her. When he did so, he and the others were horrified to see the ground where Kirra had been sitting was coated in dark blood, the same blood that now dripped from her limp body.

---------------------

Kirra awoke sometime later in her own room. It was dark out. Gawain was sprawled in a chair by her side, his long legs stretched out. A single candle softened his features and burnished his hair. Kirra's heart constricted at that sight, tears pricking her eyelids, as she remembered their son's fine, fair curls. She silently slid off the bed, not wanting to awaken Gawain and face him just yet, and moved to the window. She pushed the hanging that covered it aside and stood motionless, looking out.

Clad in only her shift, she did not feel the bitter wind that tossed her hair and chilled her skin. The moon was full tonight. She could feel it pulling her on, lending her its strength, but it was blue and cold. Kirra closed her eyes to the soft light and felt tears slip down her frigid face. She had not thought she had any more tears to cry. Her chest was tight and dry. She felt as is she had no heart, only a deep hole where it had once been. Her soul had flown with her child and now she stood, crying because of the cold, blue moon.

Kirra felt, rather than saw Gawain waken and take a blanket from her bed. He crossed the room and draped it around her shoulders. She allowed herself to be turned, but couldn't meet his eyes. Gawain tenderly wiped her tears away with his thumbs. His rough, calloused hands caressed her cheeks before he gathered her to him. Kirra stood lifelessly as he stroked her hair. Gawain kissed the top of her head and rested his chin on it.

He was the first to speak, "Lancelot told us what happened."

Kirra pulled away, her grey eyes haunted, by the knowledge of what she had chosen. She should have been the one to tell him. "It was what I had to do," her voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

Gawain flinched at the sound, "I know." There was anguish in his eyes and Kirra backed further away.

For all the anguish she saw, she saw no anger. Gawain did not even sound angry, but he should have been. He should have been violently, wrenchingly angry with her, but he wasn't and his love and acceptance hurt more than if he had been. Kirra wrapped her arms around herself as if holding herself together.

"I don't understand." Gawain was pleading with her now to talk to him, begging for her to explain what had happened, to help him understand all that had happened.

Kirra's heart, which she didn't know she still had, ached. "I don't know, it happened so quickly …" her words trailed into silence. "We both just made our choices and it was over, done in the blink of an eye. And our son was gone. I am … so … sorry …" She dropped her arms, palms out, begging for the forgiveness that she felt she didn't deserve.

Kirra stood in before Gawain, eyes downcast, tears dripping from her pale face. The light that she had always possessed was gone from her. She stood before him now, broken and wretched. A mother who had paid the ultimate price and now bore the grief and guilt of the world on her small shoulders. She would never be the same.

Gawain closed his eyes and drew a ragged breath. He hurt, but knew it could never be as much as she. For mothers feel and never forget. He stepped towards her and once again enfolded her in his arms. What could he say to ease her mind? He knew there was nothing; he could only hold her and hope that she realized that there was nothing to forgive.

He picked Kirra up and carried her to the bed; intent on tucking her in and making her sleep, but Kirra clung to him, unwilling to break the contact that she so desperately needed. In the end Gawain gave up and lay down beside her, holding her to him until she fell asleep in his arms.

* * *

I thought of the scene with Lancelot about two and half years ago as I was feeding my baby one early golden morning. It made me cry. Looking at my little girl, I could imagine how Kirra felt. TES 


	38. Chapter 38

**#38 Life**

Kirra wouldn't leave her room for weeks after the battle. She slept little, ate less, and refused to see anyone. Much of the time even Gawain was sent away. She couldn't bear to have him looking at her, loving her, forgiving her when she couldn't do those things for herself. Even at Gawain's urging, she had shown no interest in returning to heal others. Her healing House stood empty and forlorn. Her garden untended. Not even Finn, with his silly grin could break through her silence.

Out of loneliness, the big dog had become Galahad's shadow. Trailing the youngest knight everywhere he went, confused at the emotions he felt coming from the humans, Finn relied upon Galahad for feeding and attention. To see the gray dog without his mistress was one more sad reminder to the men that Kirra could not yet joined them. The men were strained and uncomfortable.

Tristan had healed and grew stronger each day. He was heartsick for his sister and grew increasingly frustrated when it became apparent he could do nothing to help her. He spent more and more time alone in the forest with his helplessness. Which was safer for all.

Bors hugged his children close to him, glad that he hadn't had to make the choice Kirra had.

But it was Lancelot who had changed the most, guilt ate at him. He could hardly stand to be in Gawain's or even Tristan's presence, though the men didn't blame him. His days were spent in practice, working his body so hard that he didn't have time to think. His nights were spent alone, the thought of turning to a whore for comfort, knotting his stomach. He took over the care of Fate and Jin, allowing no other to see to the mares' needs. In some small measure it helped him feel that he could repay what Kirra had done for him. The animals did not blame him and in their presence he felt almost normal.

In time, it was made known that Arthur and Guinevere would marry, but there was little joy in the announcement. It would be put off until things had returned to normal, though day by day Arthur grew more and more certain that would never happen.

Until one beautiful spring morning.

Standing at her window, staring at nothing, feeling nothing but the unending anguish, Kirra felt something more, a tickle in her abdomen. Shocked she held her breath and waited as something bumped her again, soft but insistent, like a butterfly knocking against a closed window.

Tears came to her eyes even as they brightened. How forgetful she had been. How neglectful of the twin who had been growing stronger all this time waiting for the right time to make his presence known. She pressed a trembling hand to her mouth and darted for the door, pausing only to grab her shawl, then raced from her room.

She found Gawain sitting at a dark table in the back of the noisy tavern. A half drunk tankard sat in front of him, but he was uninterested. She stared at him in shock. His normally open and smiling face was dark and sullen. There was no sparkle in his blue eyes only a blankness that made her heart ache. Instead of taking part in the revelry happening all around he sat sullen and silent, moving and speaking only to brush off the occasional wench who attempted to proposition him now that Kirra was seemingly out of the picture.

Gawain was wrenched from his empty, bleak thoughts when a familiar voice called his name. He looked up and was surprised to see Kirra standing in the doorway. She was thin and wan, but her eyes were glowing and her cheeks were flushed. A smile to rival the sun lit her. He got to his feet and moved towards her quickly when she beckoned frantically to him, afraid that something else might be wrong.

"What is it?" He asked urgently a worried frown creasing his brow.

She grabbed his and pulled him from the noise and confusion of the building, "Come and see."

He allowed himself to be dragged a few paces before stopping the hysterical woman. Placing his hands on her painfully thin shoulders he asked, "What is it, Kirra? What is wrong?"

She laughed giddily and Gawain's heart sank. Her grief had finally driven her mad. He placed an arm around her and began to forcibly lead her toward her room. She immediately stopped laughing and asked, "Where are we going?"

"Shhh. It's all right. Everything is going to be fine." He spoke softly and soothingly, hoping to calm her madness.

Kirra dug in her heals and ducked from under his arm. She stood with her hands on her hips and asked, "Just what are you talking about? I came here to show you something very important and you get all weird on me?"

Gawain gestured, "But you were the one who went _weird_." He said, borrowing her word.

She frowned, "How's that?"

"Coming here," He gestured toward the building and continued, "laughing like some raving lunatic."

Kirra's eyes widened at his comment and she opened her mouth to speak, but her words were spoken over.

"--Really Kirra, you hardly talk to anyone for weeks, then hunt me down at the tavern, which you are loathe to enter, even before. You are laughing and rambling on about something. Your appearance is greatly changed."

Kirra bristled at that remark. She may have not been speaking to anyone, eating or sleeping, but she had certainly kept herself clean. Her hair and come loose from its braid on the mad dash over, but it could hardly be called dirty or uncombed. It hung in waves down her back. Her clothes hung on her somewhat thin frame, but they were clean as was she – thanks to the girl Arthur had found to do her washing. Finally, tired of Gawain's little rant, she stepped forward and placed a gentle hand over his mouth. She knew when she saw his eyes glitter angrily that had she been anyone else, she would probably have been drop-kicked into next week.

"Shhh. It's all right. Everything is going to be fine." She said smiling at his glower and framing his face with her small hands, restlessly attempting to smooth away his anger.

He said nothing as she reached for one of his large hands and gently placed it on the bump of her stomach, pressing it firmly. He raised an eyebrow and started to speak.

"Be quiet," She ordered and then her smile grew as his eyes widened in amazement.

"Was that--?" Gawain steadied his hand on her stomach.

"Yes." She squealed.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

His brow furrowed, "But I thought --"

"There were two."

"Two?"

Kirra giggled, "Oh, what powers of speech you have. Yes, two." Then she cocked her head to the side and questioned, "Didn't Lancelot tell you?"

"No," Gawain replied somewhat distractedly. He was staring hard at her belly as if he could see the small, precious life through its mother's veil of flesh.

"I thought he had," Her voice softened, "I am so sorry, Gawain. For everything, for … for pushing you away, not letting you in. It was wrong." The words tumbled over one another and she hung her head, "I've been incredibly selfish."

It was at these words that Gawain lifted his head, "You weren't." he grinned, "And don't ruin the moment with your womanly chatter. Can't you see I am bonding with my ..." He looked to her in question, not doubting that she would know the answer.

"Son," Kirra supplied.

She hadn't thought he could get more excited, but at her pronouncement, Gawain grabbed her up and swung her around and around and this time _he_ was laughing like a madman. So much so that the people in the tavern had left what they were doing to see what the commotion was about.

"Gawain, I am going to throw up." Kirra said and the man set her gently on her feet and looked into her eyes.

"You are sure?" He asked one final time as if he was unable to help himself.

"Oh yes, you keep spinning me like that and you'll be sorry."

He stared at her with a pained expression.

Kirra laughed, "Okay, okay, yes, I'm sure. He will be dark, like my family." Her eyes darkened and she looked away, "His brother was fair, like you." she sorrowfully whispered the words, wondering if she would ever be able to feel normal. But then it was as if a small child had thrown his arms around her waist and buried his head in her stomach. She gasped at the feeling of thin, strong arms around her and the rush of love she felt coming from somewhere outside herself and realized that even though she would never forget the sight of her small courageous son, life would go on and it was all right to be happy.

Gawain touched her down turned head, "Are you all right, Kirra?"

She looked up, tears spilling down her cheeks and nodded, "I'm better than all right." The thin arms withdrew and Kirra was not alone and never would be.

Gawain turned and yelled to the waiting crowd, "I am going to have a son." Then looked at Kirra standing there, glowing and blushing, in the late spring sun and restated in a somewhat more subdued voice, "_We_ are going to have a son."

Behind them the crown cheered.


	39. Chapter 39

**One chapter to go after this -- I'll update soon. It has been so much fun and I thank all of you for your support.**

**Enjoy!!!**

**#39 Mother**

Niara was doing a bit of last minute cleaning when she heard a knock at her door. Opening it, she was surprised to find a very distraught Lil standing on her doorstep. The poor woman looked as though she had not eaten for many days and had not slept for many more. She wrung her hands and fought back tears as she asked for admittance.

"Yes, yes. By all means please do come in and have a cup of tea. It will do you good, my dear." The Fate said, trying not to show her shock at the usually fastidious woman's haggard appearance.

Lil's soft brown hair hung lank and a bit untidy, as if she had given only a half a mind to it earlier that day and then promptly forgot about it. Dark circles painted her lower lids, causing her already large eyes to now take her face over completely. It looked as though she had aged many years since the last time Niara had seen her. Her clothing was several sizes too big and disheveled and it seemed she could not bring herself to look Niara straight in the face. She sat when Niara made the suggestion and accepted the tea she was given but made no move to drink it.

Before Niara had a chance to sit, Lil said, "I know you must think that I am crazy, to visit you like this. I know I am not allowed on this land, but I have been unable to concentrate on much of anything lately and I have the strangest feeling that you, somehow, have a hand in my discomfort."

Niara smiled sympathetically, "I am sorry to hear about your divorce, it was unfortunate, but how do you think that I am responsible?"

Lil's haunted green eyes met the Fate's ageless ones, "There is a hole in the place of my heart," she said placing a hand over her chest, "a hole my husband and shrink said was totally unfounded and based solely upon the trauma of my past miscarriages." Her voice was bitter and hard. "But I know that's not it. I know there is something missing from my life." At this she set her mug down forcefully, tea slopping over the rim and splashing the little table, "I know there is something gone that should be here."

Niara smiled gently. She had not thought that this woman who was not Kirra's mother would have such a bond with the girl, that she would be susceptible to the removal of her memories, but that seemed not to be the case. "What do you think should be there, Lil?" She asked.

Lil stood suddenly and walked over to the front window. She stood looking out onto the bright autumn day and wrapped her thin arms around herself, "That's just it, I don't know. Ever since Scott and I returned from our vacation several years ago, and I walked into the house to find it empty … I don't know … there is just something missing." She turned to look at the Fate and her empty expression chilled Niara, "It has upset my life and I can't take much more of it, this paranoia, misplaced trauma, or … oh, I don't know what it is." She covered her face in her hands in misery and confusion and stood still for a minute before bringing her head up to again look out the window.

It was a beautiful day outside, bright golden and warm, yet Lil felt none of it. She instead saw grey, felt grey. Her world had narrowed to one thing — the search. The search for what, she did not know, all she did know, and she knew it with her whole soul, was that there was indeed something missing from her life that had been there three years previous, before she had left on a long awaited vacation with her husband.

In that first year, she had felt to talk to the old woman who lived on her husband's land of her … emptiness. The woman had never laughed at her or called her foolish or insist that she spend more time with her doctor. She had listened and nodded sympathetically and offered a shoulder to cry on and a cup of soothing tea.

As the years had stretched into three, Scott grew more and more weary of the badgering and finally, tired and annoyed at her, filed for divorce leaving Lil to work through her problems herself. The feeling that Niara knew more then she was letting on grew until this day, when Lil had woken to that great yawning hole and knew she had to confront the old woman about it and finally gain the truth or give up and fade into the emptiness her life had become.

She turned slowly to face the old woman sitting serenely in her chair as she had been on countless other occasions, "I know you know something, are a part of something. How I know is a mystery, but it is there. I feel it. Help me," she pled shamelessly, "Help me, please, before I really do go as insane as Scott and Dr. Fields say I am."

Niara sat silent for almost too long. She raised her old eyes to the distraught mother and smiled wanly, "I never thought this would happen," she said softly, "that you would love so much that your soul would feel the loss, even when your head could not." She placed her cup beside Lil's on the little sofa table and rose decidedly, "Come with me, my dear."

She took Lil's frail hand and led her to the edge of the forest that bordered the small property. On the faint breeze, the scent of herbs warmed by the sun could be smelled and it acted as a balm for Lil's troubled heart.

"Follow that small path there, through the trees, and you will find what it is you seek." She said, catching Lil's weary glance and holding it for a heartbeat of time.

"How will I know when I have found it?" The woman asked, not taking her haunted eyes from the trees.

The Fate smiled softly, "You will know. Now go." And she let go Lil's hand.

Lil nearly ran through the trees, hardly taking in where she was or the changing of the flora around her. She ran and then walked for what seemed like an eternity before stopping to catch her breath and think that maybe the old woman, tired of her whining, had sent her into the woods to die. Her eyes grew hard at the thought but she continued on defiantly. If she was to die in these woods, so be it, death would be a better alternative to living a half life in which everyone thought you were crazy.

She continued until late afternoon when she suddenly came to an abrupt edge of the forest. Moving from of the dim forest into the bright light of the lowering sun blinded her for a moment. When at last she could see, she saw that she was standing on the top of a gently rolling hill. At the bottom she heard before she saw a woman laughingly bid farewell to a friend. As the woman turned, Lil could see that she was heavily pregnant and moving happily, if not somewhat uncomfortably, swinging a small basket and humming a jaunty tune.

The woman wore strange clothing that fit a different era altogether. A long dress with another over it, Lil seemed to remember reading somewhere that it was called a kirtle and an apron. Her long dark hair was braided into a thick braid that hung over one shoulder but her head was covered with a kerchief in a modern style that looked out of place with her clothing. But it was the woman's eyes that sent memories bursting forth in Lil's head like an unstoppable waterfall. They were unusual eyes; eyes that flashed like stars come to earth as she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and gazed at Lil with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

"Mom?" the woman asked hesitantly. Hope and disbelief rang in equal parts in her husky voice and she brushed a loose tendril of dark hair from her face as she peered up at Lil.

Then in a second Lil's once empty and aching arms were overflowing with her child as Kirra threw herself at her mother and immediately began to smother her in kisses and ever tightening embraces.

"Kirra? Oh, my baby, my daughter. Where have you been? Why did you leave?" Lil was sobbing openly and tears were trickling down Kirra's face as well.

"How did you get here?" Kirra asked softly, then softer still, almost to herself, "How did you remember?"

"It was Niara." Lil gasped between sobs, "She told me where to find you." She had yet to relinquish her hold on Kirra. The women laughed and cried and laughed some more before Kirra noted the position of the sun.

"Come on, Mom." She said taking Lil's hand and squeezing it. She spoke slowly, the English coming only after she had thought about it, "Come to my home and tell me everything."

Lil sniffed, she was managing, now that she had her daughter, to get herself under control. "Your home?"

Kirra laughed gaily, "Yes, my home. Come, it isn't far. If I am not home soon, Gawain will start to get worried."

"Gawain?" Lil nearly squeaked in surprise.

Again Kirra laughed and gestured to her bulging abdomen, "Yes. You don't think I got this way by myself, do you? Come."

They soon reached a bright little cottage not far from a bustling town, but still far enough that it was peaceful and quiet with only the sounds of the birds in the trees and the few chickens scratching in the yard to interrupt the evening. As Kirra opened the door and led her mother in, Lil saw that it was a neat little place. The last of the season's flowers were tucked here and there, while fragrant bunches of dried herbs hung from the ceiling. There was a small table, two chairs, and a fire smoldering in the hearth. A curtain hung over a doorway on one wall leading Lil to believe a bedroom was hidden from view.

"It isn't much," Kirra said, "but it's our own and thankfully private." She set her basket down and bustled about stirring up the fire, putting water on to boil, and getting herbs and cups ready.

Lil sat in a near stupor watching the quick efficient movements of her daughter. It seemed that the pregnancy was doing little to slow her down. Kirra looked the same as always, except for the small worry lines that could be seen at times on her brow. Lil wondered what could have given a young woman such age lines. When the water was ready Kirra crumbled herbs into it and pulled it off the fire to steep. She sat down heavily and sighed, rubbing her burgeoning stomach.

"How did you get here, Mom?" She asked.

Kirra sat in astonishment as her mother recounted the story of coming home and finding something not quite right. She was told of the countless doctors Lil had seen, of the medications they had prescribed for her. Lil told Kirra through a veil of tears of Scott's harshness and disbelief at what he termed her 'foolishness'. She told her of the horrible divorce, of the humility that she felt and the discomfort that Scott had put her through. Every moment, every thought, every heartbreaking tear was talked of and as Lil told it her heart became lighter and once again joy brightened her eyes.

Every so often, someone would interrupt the narrative, knocking at the open door and asking for Kirra. Kirra would rise from her chair to listen to them as they gestured or cried, clearly asking for assistance, then she would smile apologetically at her mother before bustling about a wall of shelves that held many different jars and bottles until she had assembled what she needed and handed over what ever it was to the waiting person. Often times, she would take a chicken and release it in the yard to scratch with the others, or a basket of fruit or vegetables, or some other thing in what Lil understood to be payment for her services.

At the end of Lil's narrative, Kirra sat silent as she examined her mother with regretful grey eyes, "I am sorry that you had to go through that because of me. I never thought Dad could be like that." She stated in a hard voice as her eyes grew to match.

Lil surprised at the hardness, waved it away, "He had always been like that, but got better once we adopted you. Truth be known, he never wanted children. I felt it was a miracle when he finally relented to the adoption. But never mind. It doesn't matter now. I have found you and even when I go back, I will be able to live again. But tell me, how could you just leave me like that? Without a note, without a good-bye?"

Kirra pushed the stubborn tendril back behind her ear and sighed heavily, "I was told that the memories would be taken from you and it would be as if I had never existed." She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

"But, Kirra," Lil said reaching out a hand to her little daughter, "A mother's heart never forgets. No matter if her child is her blood or not."

Kirra smiled, suddenly sad, "I understand that now, Mom." She said as she withdrew her hand and stroked her swollen belly with it.

"Now," Lil said with a grin, "How did _this_ happen?"

But her question was momentarily forgotten by the arrival of a tall man who looked older than he should have, much like Kirra. Long blonde hair hung down his back and a rather large axe and equally huge knife hung from his belt. He entered the home and had bent to kiss Kirra and stroke her stomach with surprisingly gentle hands, all the while asking questions in the same rapid-fire language as the other visitors had spoken in, before he noticed just who exactly was sitting at his table. His fine blue eyes grew wide and he grew quiet as Kirra laughed.

"Mom, this is Gawain. _He_ would be how this happened." She stated gesturing to her stomach.

Lil's eyes strayed unconsciously to Kirra's left hand, where no ring lay. "But, Kirra…"

Kirra reached out a reassuring hand, "It's legal -- we wed before we came here. Some three years back." She pulled the chain that held her ring out, "My ring is too small right now." She looked to the man, who had his head cocked quizzically, and asked a brief question. The man nodded and said something to which Kirra pursed her lips and gave a thoughtful retort. The man shook his head stubbornly and repeated whatever it was he had said previously.

Kirra laughed, "Okay, he says it was not quite three years ago."

"Is this the, ah, first?" Lil asked carefully.

"Oh, yes," Kirra said and the man interrupted with something.

Lil looked to Kirra, who smiled fondly at her husband, "He wants me to tell you that you will have a grandson. He's rather proud of that fact, if you couldn't notice."

Lil looked up at the young man and it was clear she was more than a little concerned about him being father to her daughter's child. He looked the type to, well, do horrible things to little children, not father them. It was hard to imagine a tiny, new baby lying safely in his arms, though at the moment he could hardly contain the warm, excited smile that practically split his face and lit his eyes.

Lil decided it had to have been those eyes that first captured her daughter. She was unable to hold to her previous thought while having the full force of those happy blue eyes turned on her. She rose immediately and embraced the man tightly. After a moment's hesitation he returned the embrace.

As Lil watched Kirra and her husband interact, it was apparent that they were entirely wrapped up in each other. The young man seemed to be unable to keep himself from touching Kirra in some way as they spoke. He knelt by her side and stroked her stomach or touched her knee. It was clear he was entranced by Kirra and from the glint in Kirra's eye and adoring tone of her voice, it was clear she felt the same. It was comforting to know that Kirra was happy and that she was being well taken care of.

After a time it became apparent that Gawain was questioning Kirra, no doubt about Lil's presence, and as Kirra answered him, Lil was content to sit back and simply listen to her daughter. Her voice had changed become fuller, more womanly, but she spoke gently and thoughtfully, so unlike the Kirra that Lil remembered. That Kirra had been a little loud and a little volatile at times -- a typical teenager. But here she was barely out of those teen years, about to be a mother and speaking as if she had lived several lifetimes in the three years she had been away from home. Lil wondered what it was that had changed her typical teenager into this self-possessed woman who now sat in front of her.

Towards the end of the conversation, the young man said something to which Kirra's eyes grew wide and bright and she stood up in sudden excitement. She turned to Lil, "Gawain just told me that Tristan has sent word. He will be home later this night."

"_Gawain_, _Tristan_?" Lil asked speculatively, the names just now clicking in her brain. She knew the stories.

Kirra recognized the look and smiled wryly, "Yes, you have just entered the real version of the story, Mom." She explained. "We are to meet at the keep for supper. Apparently, Tristan found something that shortened his trip considerably."

"What? And who exactly is Tristan?" Lil asked.

"Oh, I forgot." Kirra said, with a little shake of her head, "I am bit absent minded lately. Tristan is my brother." She grinned, "You will see that for yourself tonight, if we are still awake when he gets home and it seems that he ran into a group of Sarmatians on their way here."

Before Lil could frame another question, the man looked out the door and said something to Kirra then looked at Lil and back at Kirra.

"Gawain says that we should be leaving and that we need to find you something suitable to wear."

Lil looked down at her jeans and sweatshirt, "This is all I have."

Kirra thoughtfully rubbed her stomach, "You can't fit into my clothes, even pre-pregnancy." Her eyes lit and she rattled off something to her husband. He ran his eyes over Lil's thin frame as he considered her suggestion, then nodded and smiled.

"It seems that we both think that you are about the same height and build as the queen," Lil's eyebrow raised in question and Kirra nodded in answer, "We will just borrow a couple of gowns from her. I can get a seamstress here tomorrow. Mara owes me. But we had better go." Kirra said, taking Lil's hand and leading her from the house. It was darkening outside and Lil was surprised at how the time had gone by without her being aware of it.

Kirra called to her husband and made to walk around the side of the house. The man retorted sharply and shook his head at her, to which Kirra rolled her eyes and protested. Again the man shook his head. His voice softened just a bit at the stubborn set of Kirra's chin and the toss of her braid over her shoulder. She looked at her mother crossly.

"We have to walk. The caveman won't let me ride."

She sounded cross, but Lil was sure she saw a glimmer of enjoyment at the little argument in Kirra's eyes.

"I should say not!" Lil exclaimed.

"Truthfully, I know." Kirra quietly admitted to Lil when Gawain was out of earshot, "But it is so much fun to watch his eyes turn that violent shade of blue. He looks so fierce, I can't help it."

"You always were a handful." Lil said fondly, throwing a loving arm over her shoulder. Kirra grinned and slipped her arm through Gawain's after her mother let her go.

Lil was painfully aware of the strange glances her strangely dressed person drew. She asked Kirra many questions to keep from feeling too self-conscious, "Now sweetheart, who are the Sarmatians?" She asked.

"They are a group of nomadic people, well many tribes actually, who the Romans conquered generations ago. They were nearly decimated, all but their horse … uh …" Kirra fought to remember the English word, then gave up with a shrug, "troop. In order for their lives to be spared, they swore an oath that their children and their children's children would ever after serve the Roman Empire for a term of fifteen years." Kirra grew quiet and her eyes were again darkened in some unnamed sorrow, "They are my people, and Gawain's, though we are of different tribes." She glanced up at her husband, "Most all die before their term of service it finished. Of the nearly fifty who came with Gawain a mere fifteen years ago, only seven remain. And they, only by sheer luck."

The young man looked at Kirra in concern at the sorrow in her voice. He said something softly to her and nearly turned around again to lead her back to their home, but Kirra waved him off and soon brightened.

"It is said that we are descended from the Amazons." She said. "I am not so sure about that, I find it hard to believe that there would be a five foot four Amazon anywhere, but that is the popular belief."

About that time they had made it through the town and to a large home in the center. Many people, almost everyone they saw, greeted Kirra or stopped to speak with her. Gawain said something after such an encounter.

Kirra laughed as she translated, "Gawain says to let you know that I am somewhat of an important person here, actually the word he used is closer translated to celebrity."

"What do you do?" Lil asked in wonder.

"I am simply a healer," Kirra said as if she were merely stating the fact. "Nothing more."

Lil looked at her daughter in wonder.

They entered the home and were escorted to a well furnished room. A servant brought cups of wine for Gawain and Lil, but returned with water at a request from Kirra. Kirra spoke to the servant for a moment and soon another young woman, younger then Kirra, approached them and greeted both Kirra and Gawain with kisses on both cheeks.

"Mom, this is Guinevere." Kirra said grinning at her mother's gasp of surprise. "If you are ready, we'll get you dressed and ready for supper." About that time a dark haired young man had entered the room and with curious looks at Lil, had sidled up to Kirra's husband to get the gossip.

It was not long before Lil was dressed and her hair had been intricately braided and woven around her head. As she looked into the polished brass mirror, she thought that it had been a long time since she had ever thought she looked beautiful, but tonight she did. The dark green gown flattered her thin frame and brought out the color of her eyes, and the brief walk had put the pink back in her cheeks. Kirra and the queen hovered over her and laughed gaily as they dressed her.

She re-entered the room where Gawain and now others waited, somewhat timidly, unsure how these people would receive her and afraid of the language barrier. She was immediately put at ease when everyone clustered about her and Kirra made the introductions. The men pressed her hand with somber eyes, except for one, who kissed the back of her hand, causing Lil to blush at such a formal gesture, and with a sidelong glance and said something Kirra which made her groan and shake her head.

"And this would be Lancelot," Kirra explained as the tall man straightened and watched with amused, dark eyes. He nodded to Kirra as if to prod her into telling all he had said, "He says that you look far too young to have a daughter as old as I am. Truth be told, he believes himself charming so don't encourage him."

Lil laughed at the man, who was indeed charming, as he turned to Kirra and pressed a kisses to her cheek by way of greeting. His grin turned suddenly roguish as he touched Kirra's belly and said a few words to her, which caused Gawain, at the other end of the room, to glance over in exasperation and Kirra thump his chest with her small fist, although Lil noted her daughter was laughing as she did it.

Kirra turned, still laughing to Lil to make the final introduction. He was a tall unassuming man, unassuming that is until Lil met his eyes. They were a clear green, somber and piercing. His smile was reserved but gentle as he firmly pressed Lil's hand and inclined his head to her.

"This is Arthur, Mom, the king." Kirra said in a very unimpressed voice.

The king's expression became concerned at Lil's sharp intake of breath and he looked to Kirra as he posed a question. Kirra waved it away and made a short reply to which Arthur nodded and again gave Lil his quiet smile. He searched Lil's eyes and made a small speech. At his words the other men grew silent and watchful as Kirra translated.

"He wants to thank you for raising me and letting me return to save his men."

When Kirra was finished the men cheered and lifted their cups to Lil, who blushed. Kirra was beaming and caught her mother up in a tight hug.

"I don't know what to say." Lil said.

"You don't have to say anything," Kirra replied. "They are just grateful to you."

At that moment a servant came in and announced that dinner was ready and the small crowd made its way to a room that held a table that fairly groaned under the weight of the food atop it. Lil found her mouth watering and realized for the first time in years that she was really hungry. Fortunately, it seemed that everyone was equally famished and as soon as the king had spoken a few words, all tucked in.

The meal was a fine one and entertaining and Kirra translated for Lil as best she could all of the conversations going on around them. She told Lil about each of the men seated at the table. How they had come to find Guinevere and the boy who sat near the giant of the group. She spoke of each of the absent bastards -- who were no longer bastards, as their parent's had wed a month ago. She told her mother of the adventures she had in the years since she had returned. She spoke of the men who had fallen, in particularly of Gareth and his role in what had transpired at the hill. Lil was amazed to realize that there was indeed magic in the world, or perhaps with the onslaught of science, it had become unnecessary and had faded into the background. Kirra told her what she had remembered of her childhood before she had been found at the orphanage.

Lil noticed that the men treated Kirra with a sort of brotherly affection. They spoke to her frequently and the ones who sat near her pushed food on her shamelessly. Kirra took the attention in stride and laughed along with them. It was clear she was important to them.

It was much later as Kirra was beginning to show signs of exhaustion when a messenger whispered to the king that his knight had arrived with his guests. Gawain helped Kirra to her feet and led her to the stables, where a small group of people on horseback were dismounting. Lil saw Kirra's weary eyes go bright once again when she spotted one man in particular as he helped an old woman from a tall dark horse. Kirra broke from her husband and threw her arms around the man.

He was tall and lanky and moved with a surprising grace as he caught Kirra and hugged her back. Wild dark hair hid most of his face, but when the hair fell away, Lil saw the resemblance between him and Kirra. This must be the arriving Tristan. Kirra stood talking to him, obviously relieved he was back safely.

She gestured to Lil. "Mom, this," It was hard not to hear the pride and adoration in her voice, "is Tristan, and this," she turned to politely introduce the old woman her brother had helped dismount, and stopped abruptly. Her face fell at her first sight of the old woman's dark eyes, eyes that were the same shape as her own and Tristan's. The woman was also her height and though older -- there were skeins of silver running through the dark hair that was knotted at the nape of her neck -- she moved with the same quick grace that Kirra did. Kirra looked to her brother, confusion written on her features.

The man smiled and for an instant his eyes lit and he nodded and said one word. Kirra breathed the word in a voice reserved for prayers, "My mother."

Kirra was suddenly so overcome, she thought she would faint. Lil stepped back so that her mother could gently take her face in her hands and kiss her cheeks. Laina, Tristan called her, searched Kirra's eyes for what seemed to be an eternity before enfolding her in warm arms, arms that Kirra remembered the moment they had been brought around her.

"We had thought you dead and lost to the wolves." She breathed in Kirra's ear, "And here you stand, goddess be praised." She held her silently weeping daughter away from her, so to better examine her and Kirra saw that Laina's eyes were the same shade as Tristan's, but in looking at Laina, Kirra knew exactly what she would look like when she got older. Laina was gentle and calm and she at once broke into a huge smile at the sight of Kirra's protruding belly.

"And who is the man who blesses you so?" She asked.

Kirra dashed the tears from her face, "Oh, yes." She looked around for Gawain and he moved forward, somewhat reluctantly. Kirra grasped his hand tightly, "This is my husband, Laina, Gawain."

If Kirra's calling her by her name instead of by her title bothered Laina, she hid it well. She looked Gawain up and down, assessing him in an instant. Tristan had related Kirra's story on the ride over, but to see the fair Alanni who was her daughter's mate was still a shock. But Laina was skilled in hiding her emotions, a trait that her youngest son had inherited. If Tristan, who was Kirra's last remaining male relative had thought highly enough of the man to allow the relationship to continue, than it was not for Laina to reject the man.

She smiled at Gawain as she framed his face with her hands and brought his head down to hers. Laina placed his forehead to hers and whispered something in a language familiar to Kirra, but one she could not understand. Then she abruptly let him go and turned to her daughter.

"And who is this?" She asked of the woman who stood to the side of Kirra.

Kirra beamed and in the same tone she had used when introducing Tristan to Lil, she introduced her adoptive mother to her birth mother. Laina immediately took the younger mother's hands in her own. Tears fell down her cheeks and she blessed Lil for the fine job she had done in raising Kirra. Lil cried also and thanked Laina for Kirra.

It was learned later the others in the arriving group, were relatives who had accompanied Laina on her journey. As the fifteen years had come to a close, she had begun having dreams about her youngest son and lost daughter. They were persistent and upon asking the tribe priestess, Laina had learned that it was her destiny to make one final journey. She had left the next day with only one niece and the woman's husband, all which remained of her family.

She was old and, Kirra learned, suffering from tuberculosis, but grateful that she had not missed the birth of her grandchild. It would be the first that she knew of. None of Kirra's or Tristan's brothers had returned home from their service and their fates were unknown. It was good for Laina to be near her children, so near the end of her life. It was good for her children to learn more of their family and renew old friendships with their cousin.


	40. Chapter 40

**And so we've come to the end. It's been so fun. Sorry it took so long to get this last chapter posted. Thanks for staying wil me and let me know what you think!**

**Enjoy!!!**

**#40 Beginnings and Endings**

It was a chilly autumn night when Kirra was suddenly awoken by a fierce pain. As she sat up gasping, Gawain woke at the disturbance and touched her shoulder, "What is it?" he asked his blue eyes dark in concern.

"The baby," Kirra managed to gasp before the next building wave robbed her of breath and concentration, "Get my mother."

Gawain's eyes widened at the news and he nearly fell out of bed in his haste, "Which one?" He asked, not really hearing what he was saying.

Kirra looked up at him, but was unable to answer. He shook his head and raced form the small cottage, barefoot and clad only in a pair of breeches. He would have to ride to the keep to fetch either mother and there was not a moment to lose.

Kirra had gone to bed complaining of an ache in her back, but that had been nothing out of the ordinary, it seemed that her hips or back were always aching lately. She had eaten a large dinner and besides the aches had been in a happy mood, humming and teasing Gawain relentlessly as she always did. He had felt her stir on more than one occasion during the night, but once again at her advanced stage, sleep had become hard to come by, so Gawain had thought nothing of it. Her sudden announcement both shocked and frightened him. He remembered all too well what Vanora had looked like during her last labor and delivery.

It was not long before he was back, followed by Tristan and Laina, with Lil clinging to him as he rode wildly through the dark night with not even a sliver of moon out to light the way. Kirra had managed to light a few lamps and stir the fire up, finding that moving helped ease the pain, but she was visibly relieved to see Lil and Laina bustle into the house. Tristan stayed outside to look after the horses while Gawain followed the women cautiously.

He knew that Kirra had made Bors stay during the birth of his last child and was half hopeful and half horrified that he would be allowed to do the same. Lil smiled reassuringly at him and stepped back from Kirra's side to let him near, but Laina frowned and no doubt would have sent him outside to wait with Tristan had Kirra not spoken sharply, demanding that he stay.

Laina looked at her daughter in surprise, but instantly recognized the determined expression on the young woman's face and relented. Her years as a midwife had led her to believe it was better to let the laboring woman have her way, even if it went against all she knew. If it strengthened the girl to have her man with her, then so be it, but it surprised Laina that neither Lil nor Kirra seemed to think it strange that a man would attend a birthing, so she swallowed her disapproval and went to work.

Kirra was young and strong; the babe in the right position for a smooth delivery so between the young woman's strength and the steady, experienced hands of Laina, the birth went surprisingly fast, for a first birthing. In the silent, gray hours just before dawn, the first mewling wails of an infant could be heard shattering the silence. Laina smiled as she cleaned her grandson, wrapped him snuggly in a blanket she had made and proudly passed him to his other grandmother.

"Oh, Kirra," Lil breathed as she peered into the face of her grandson and kissed his little head, "he's beautiful." She settled the infant on her daughter's breast and stood back with her arm around Laina's shoulder.

Kirra gulped back tears as she looked at the sweet round face of her son. His skin was unblemished and smooth unlike most newborns and his fine, soft hair was dark and curling. She stroked his little hands, kissed his already chubby cheeks, and grinned tiredly at Gawain who had knelt at her side. "Well, you have your son. Now what are you going to do?" She asked with a hint of her old mischief.

He took the small bundle and, to Lil's astonishment, looked to be a natural as he smiled gently down at his first born, "Let you rest and teach him to ride."

Laina clucked her tongue in disapproval, not knowing the man and his manner and Kirra raised an eyebrow, "At least wait until he's an hour old." When she had translated for Lil, her mother moved immediately to block the door and stood there with her arms folded across her chest and a fierce look on her pretty face. Gawain laughed. Lil may be unable to understand or speak but somehow the woman had a way of making herself understood.

As was tradition for their people, Kirra and Gawain had a feast on their son's naming day. The child, already a strong and hale little lad, would be called Daelin and it looked as though he was going to grow up in the image of his uncle Tristan, which made Kirra smile. Tristan seemed to have come to that conclusion as well and was never far from his nephew's house. His unexpected interest was amusing. As she held her sleeping son close and quietly watched her friends and family, she knew life was going to be good and rich.

Next to her, Gawain teased Galahad, who had his eye on a pretty young woman distantly related to Guinevere, but was still too shy and not quite drunk enough to approach her. There was finally a measure of peace in the youngest of the knights' green eyes. He no longer spoke of returning home and had found happiness in just being able to be who he desired to be, which turned out not that different from whom he had been before receiving his papers.

Arthur and Guinevere sat in a corner, holding hands and deep in a conversation in which they were the only two in the world. If Kirra knew anything at all, it would not be long before the two of them were preparing to welcome a little one of their own. They balanced each other and worked tirelessly as true equals to unite the land. Their child would be a welcome miracle.

An unhappy frown creased her brow when she spotted Lancelot staring with hopeless longing at the pretty queen, an empty cup before him. He had been restless as of late and she knew his would be a hard road. At the thought, Kirra sincerely hoped that he would not act in a way that would make her son's sacrifice for nothing. She knew the story, but also saw the adoration on Guinevere's face when she looked up into the eyes of Arthur. Kirra made note to speak to Lancelot.

The sight of Tristan gazing intently out from under his hair at a beautifully fair young woman, who would glance shyly back every now and then, caused her to brighten considerably. Peace was not the only thing her stoic brother had found out in the forest when Kirra had been unable to see anyone.

Bors and Vanora argued good-naturedly as the younger of their children loudly ran about wreaking havoc upon the great hall. The older ones sat proudly at the table with the adults, the couple's oldest daughter, a pretty red-head like her mother, could be seen now and again throwing shy, admiring glances in Galahad's direction and Kirra's grin grew.

Her heart swelled in happiness as she watched the last couple seated at the far end of the long table. It would seem a new romance was blossoming. As Lil smiled up into the calm face of Dagonet, her pretty features grew soft and she looked years younger. It was as if perhaps for the first time, she was truly happy. Kirra wished them well, but had already refused to call Dag 'dad'.

There was a touch of sorrow to be found this day as well. Laina had died peacefully in her sleep just days after Daelin had been born, but Kirra knew she had been happy. She had been able to find her children, see that they were well and help her daughter bring a precious life into the world. The cycle of life was continuing and Laina had been ready to go and join her loved ones.

Yes, for all the hardship life here posed, it would be a good life and Kirra looked forward to living and watching her small family grow and thrive. Gawain put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her tight against him, kissing his son's small head and then kissing her gently, his sparkling eyes full of the promise of the future. Kirra sighed happily and leaned against his solid warmth, time had indeed been good.


End file.
